A Good Guide is Hard to Find
by Debra N
Summary: Blair and Chris run into trouble when Brackett seizes a chance for freedom and decides to settle a few old scores in the process. Can Jim and Vin find their Guides before Brackett's Sentinel unit stakes a claim? Sixth in the 'Finding Family' series.
1. The return of an adversary

Author's note: I do not own the rights to The Magnificent Seven or The Sentinel. No profit was made and only respect was intended.

I would like to thank Caitriona3 for her efforts as beta for this story. She did a great job and any remaining mistakes are my fault. (PM me about where they are and I'll correct them, if you find any particularly irritating ones.)

This is the sixth story in the 'Finding Family' series.

* * *

><p>"I think we can take it as proven that Tanner has better vision than me," suggested Detective James Joseph Ellison, Sentinel of Cascade. It was early autumn in Colorado and the comfortable breeze combined with the relaxed atmosphere made for a surprisingly enjoyable second visit to the Denver area. Almost five months had passed since Jim first rushed to the city, concerned for his friend and Guide after the younger man's attempted reconciliation with his mother became an introduction to a father Blair never knew existed. Jim probably would have left his partner to sort out the family drama on his own had Blair not revealed one of 'dad's' coworkers as a latent Sentinel. When the latent went to active after less than twenty-four hours of contact with Blair, Jim couldn't board a plane fast enough. He refused to repeat history and leave Blair at the mercy of an unknown Sentinel ever again. Thankfully, Vin Tanner, the new Sentinel (or Guardian as his tribe called them) was not the psychotic disaster they came to expect after Alex Barnes.<p>

In fact, once they moved past the initial growling phase Jim and Vin actually got along pretty well. Jim even followed his impulse to give Tanner his email, in case the other thought of any Sentinel questions. He felt honestly surprised when after a month and a half of silence Tanner sent a query about preferred soaps. Vin experienced on and off skin rashes and nothing they tried worked. Jim happily sent a short list of products he used, remembering all too well how quickly even a small rash could send you from distracted to completely unable to get relief. The simple exchange led to an ongoing correspondence with the two sharing how the senses impacted their work in ways both good and bad. Jim felt especially pleased when a warning of his saved Vin a trip to the hospital, and it was not long before Jim thought of Tanner as both a protégé and a friend.

Jim welcomed Blair's suggestion to take a second trip out to Denver so Blair could help Chris get a better read on Vin's capabilities. While he was not exactly jumping for joy at the idea of running through a Blair-designed maze of tests, he also remembered what a pain in the ass the senses were initially and he wanted to help Tanner get past this rough spot as fast as he could. It surprised Jim when he discovered how much he enjoyed the opportunity to really stretch his senses against someone with similar abilities. Nathan Jackson and Josiah Sanchez, a medic and anthropologist/psychologist respectively asked to witness the testing. Jim did not usually like using his abilities around those he did not know, but since both men, as members of Larabee's team, knew about Tanner's gifts and worked with him regularly, Jim agreed. The pride he had felt at consistently beating Tanner in all of the hearing tests made it easier to concede the younger man possessed far superior sight.

"You've been holding out on me, man," Blair accused good naturedly. "The results I'm recording from you and Vin are significantly better than what I've got on record." Blair typed away on the laptop his father gave him earlier, guaranteed to be 'hack proof' according to JD. Currently, it held all of Blair's accumulated knowledge and work on Sentinels in general and both Jim and Vin in particular. It also included information saved from his short study of Alex Barnes, but he preferred to ignore that data. Beside him, Chris read off another list of numbers. These, pertaining to Vin, caused Blair to whistle in amazement while he typed them in. "And you Vin, I think you could give hawks a run for their money when it comes to visual acuity."

"Always had good eyes," Vin stated with a shrug.

"What about you, Jim? Do you have any explanation for why you can see twice as far as when I tested you four years ago?" asked Blair.

"Exercise," Jim offered. "The more you use a skill or ability the better you get at it. When you tested me I hadn't used my senses in years. Now I use them daily to varying degrees. It's got to have an effect; just like muscles strengthened by exercise."

"Does that mean Vin's vision might get even better," wondered Chris. As far as he was concerned his Guardian's eyesight was already astounding.

"Possibly, probably," murmured Blair. "I'd love to get an image of their brains while they're using their senses."

"Why?" asked Nathan, "Do you mean like an MRI or something? Would that show anything? I thought it was their senses that were unusual." The medic, who took on the job of overseeing the tests Blair and Chris devised for their partners, remained fascinated by the science behind their abilities. He thought after watching Vin start to use his senses at work that he possessed an idea of these men's capabilities, but the things he witnessed today were truly phenomenal.

"Well they are," agreed Blair. "But the latest studies on visual acuity indicated there are no perceivable structural differences in the eyes of people with 20/20 verses people with 20/10 vision. This led to the current most prominent theory suggesting superior or hyper visual acuity relies on both sound eye structure and excellent brain connections working in concert. I've also noted Jim and Vin both have a natural ability to control the dilation of their eyes which is something most people have to learn how to do through practice. Much the same way a person could learn how to control their breathing or heart rate through Lamaze or meditation."

"So how would Jim and Vin's vision rate on a standard vision scale?" wondered Nathan.

"Actually, since most vision charts have 20/10 as their smallest line Jim and Vin are a bit beyond the standard. I'm putting Jim down as 20/7 and estimating Vin to be closer to 20/5. Both are comparable to the believed range of many birds of prey," Blair explained.

"So could you find anyone who is not a Sentinel with that sort of eyesight?" asked Chris as he set down his notepad.

"Well it is definitely rare," conceded Blair, "But another study found a group of men diagnosed with autism-spectrum disorders maintained, on average, 20/7 vision, which lends a bit of support to the idea indicating our software," Blair tapped the side of his skull, "plays a part in what we're able to perceive."

"You're talking about the article by Emma Ashwin's group," confirmed Josiah.

"Yes, you read it too?" Blair asked.

"Is this where you tell us heightened senses are often a sign of mental illness?" wondered Jim. He had not forgotten how the only person besides himself to see the spirit of a murder victim, was a diagnosed schizophrenic.

"No," insisted Blair, "though I would point out someone who color codes their Tupperware could possibly fall into the high functioning end of the autism spectrum."

"It's called being organized," Jim maintained.

"Anal," Blair muttered under his breath.

"I heard that," Jim informed in a warning tone while Vin began to chuckle.

"Good," Blair smiled, "You were meant to." He hit enter on his keyboard one more time and then leaned back in his seat. "Well I've got everything we've done so far documented for us to reference later. Which sense do you guys want to test next?"

"Taste," Chris asserted decisively, "as in you and I head out to pick up fresh steaks for the barbeque. We've already been at this for several hours and I think everyone has earned a break. I doubt I'm the only one here getting hungry. Buck and JD are due in another hour, but I don't trust them to bring anything but chips and soda. So we need to get the good stuff ourselves."

"What about Ezra?" asked Blair. "Isn't he coming?"

"He had to cancel," Chris explained, "when his mother and her latest boyfriend showed up unannounced."

"Okay, I could go for some food, but I want to pick up some vegetables to go with all of the red meat," Blair returned adamantly.

"We could look for some shish kebab fixings," suggested Chris. "Maybe a couple heads of cauliflower to roast." Blair scribbled down a list of food items even as the other men kept adding more and more suggestions. "Enough," demanded Chris, "I am not feeding an army, at least not unless you boys start paying to cover the bill." Blair happily accepted money from Nathan and Josiah.

Jim started to dig into his wallet too when Vin stopped him. "Chris promised me all I could eat if I didn't gripe about the tests they planned. Seems only fair; you should get a free meal too."

Jim broke into a grin, "Hear that, Chief?"

"Yeah, yeah," muttered Blair, "I'll cover you." Blair added another twenty from his own wallet to the pot. A few minutes later father and son pulled out of the driveway in Chris's truck.

* * *

><p>They spent a surprisingly short amount of time in the store considering the long list of groceries they were expected to procure. Upon reconsideration Blair decided perhaps it was not so surprising when he realized his father treated a trip to the grocery the same way he likely treated his SEAL team missions. Review objectives before deployment; in this case read the list before entering the store. Evade enemy patrols; also known as wondering children and adults with overloaded shopping carts. Capture targets; grab the items on the list. Make a quick retreat when the mission objective is achieved; as known as, handing the cashier cash while helping to bag his own groceries. "I think I can honestly say that constituted the fastest trip to the grocery store I've ever been on which didn't involve getting three items or less," Blair assessed with more than a bit of respect.<p>

"Even when I got married to Sarah I kept doing the grocery shopping as my part of the household chores," Chris explained. "Sarah used to joke, saying I approached shopping like I was invading another country." Chris found himself surprised he mentioned his wife's name so easily. Possibly even more shocking; he felt only a shadow of stabbing pain he usually felt.

"Sounds like one very observant lady," decided Blair.

"No one could get anything past Sarah," Chris agreed. "Her students used to swear she had eyes in the back of her head." Chris noted how the familiar dull ache of her memory became overridden by thoughts of happier times. It still hurt a bit, but it also felt good to be able to talk about her again. He did not know if enough time passed for him to finally move into acceptance or if it was simply that Blair felt so easy to talk to. Either way he was glad it happened.

They were just starting to load their bags into the back seat of Chris's truck when Blair's phone started to play the theme from Mission Impossible.

"That better not be one of the boys asking us to get something else," warned Chris, "because I'm not going back in there."

"No," murmured Blair a bit confused, "this is my ring tone for Jack Kelso." He hit the receive button even as he deposited the last bag. "Hey, Jack, how's it going? I haven't heard from you in a while."

"Thank God, I got a hold of you. I may be worrying over nothing but your boss said you were both on vacation and I couldn't reach Jim on his cell," Jack spoke in a rush.

"We're in the Rocky Mountains; cell service is a little spotty," explained Blair. He really did not like the borderline panic he heard in the former CIA agent's voice. "What's going on Jack? You're starting to worry me." Chris instinctively began to survey their surroundings, picking up on his son's unease.

"Brackett's in the wind," Jack alerted. "I just got word of his release last week, into the custody of a Brigadier General Colton, who did _not_ possess authorization to release anyone. Now both are missing and I don't think it's a coincidence that the same General proposed and had his funding denied for what my source called 'the Sentinel project'."

"Crap," Blair hopped into the truck slamming the door. "Drive," he ordered Chris. "Get us to the ranch as fast as you can. Jack said Brackett escaped from his little hole some time last week with a General who'd just been denied funding for his own little Sentinel project."

Chris responded immediately, shifting the vehicle into gear and pealing out of the parking lot. His hazard lights and his horn the only warnings for others to get out of his way. Once on the road he dug his own cell out of his pocket and handed it to Blair. "Speed dial nine is the ranch's land line. The others are going to need a heads up."

"Right," Blair muttered hitting the nine. "Hang on Jack. I need to warn Jim."

"He's not with you?" Jack asked.

"No, he's at my Dad's ranch," Blair explained.

"Your Dad?" Jack sounded more confused with every question.

"ATF Group Supervisor Chris Larabee of Denver's Team Seven. It's a long story. I'll . . ."

"Larabee's Looney Bin," greeted Buck from Chris's cell. "How may I direct your call?"

Blair ignored Buck, hoping that Jim stood in earshot of the phone. "Jim, Brackett is on the loose thanks to the backing of a General who's ticked off about not getting his Sentinel project funded. Chris and I are coming back to the ranch. Don't you dare get kidnapped before I get there!"

"We'll be careful, Chief," Jim assured in the background.

"What do we need to be on the lookout for?" asked Buck all trace of his earlier silliness gone.

"Lee Brackett CIA agent turned self-serving traitor," Blair began.

"Him, I know," growled Buck.

Blair remembered Buck had also been on Chris's SEAL team, which likely meant he knew the team member Brackett's grand standing long ago caused the death of. "He may be in the company of Brigadier General Colton. I'll have to talk to Jack before I know more about him."

"I'll get JD working on our end," assured Buck. "Does Chris want me to call Ezra in?"

Blair tipped the phone away from his mouth, "Ezra?"

"I'll call Ezra," Chris raised his voice so Buck could hear him. "You are in charge of the security detail effective immediately. And Buck, don't take risks by making assumptions."

"Understood."

Blair ended the call with the ranch and then immediately called Ezra's cell number before handing it back to Chris. Picking up his own cell Blair tried to force some calm and focus through his scattered thoughts. "Thanks for waiting, Jack. Jim knows about the threat, now what else can you tell me?"

"I'm going to be honest with you Blair. Bracket is not the only person who has managed to connect the dots where Jim is concerned. Nor is Jim the only soldier to have exhibited heightened senses. The main difference being none of the others have shown the consistency Jim has since teaming up with you. There was some talk of bringing the two of you in to consult on a possible project, but it ended due to a combination of budget constraints and the belief that neither of you would be very inclined to help the military establishment train their Sentinels. Especially considering your past experiences." Jack's short speech shocked Blair silent.

In the drivers seat Chris ended his quick call to Ezra and refocused on getting back to the others. "It will take seven more minutes to reach the ranch," he updated.

Blair shook himself from his stupor to ask Jack, "What about this General Colton? What is he really after in all of this?"

"Colton claimed he wanted to form a Sentinel unit to better investigate ways to train and utilize their abilities. It doesn't sound so bad on the surface, but he proposed drafting anyone who exhibited signs of being a Sentinel and requiring they fulfill a mandatory ten year term of military service. His very weak justification being Sentinels were genetically predisposed to protect others and the military exemplified the best way to do so," informed Jack.

"Ten years of mandatory military service for anyone identified as a Sentinel?" The thought of how many rights Colton's project would trample staggered. Even when the draft had been in effect back in the sixties and early seventies, mandatory service only lasted two years and it still allowed waivers or non-combat postings for conscientious objectors. Colton did not sound like the type to allow such leeway.

"A specialized draft targeting Sentinels?" Chris spoke up from beside him. "That not just illegal; it's unconstitutional."

"Let me assure you, Blair," Jack continued through the cell, "even those who thought a Sentinel unit had some potential were opposed to the mandatory service idea. When he refused to back off on the concept, Colton's superiors sidelined his command and eliminated his funding. Apparently that's when he decided to work with Brackett. I doubt you have forgotten how good Brackett is at working an angle to his advantage."

"Blair we're being followed," cautioned Chris. "They've been hanging back, but it's the same SUV that followed us out of the parking lot."

"We're still another five minutes from the ranch, right?" asked Blair. "Should we warn them we're being followed?"

Chris frown as his eyes darted from the windshield to the rear view mirror. "Vin's first instinct will be to come to us. I don't want to play into Brackett's hands that way." Despite what Vin or Jim might think; Sentinels were not the only ones with an instinctive drive to protect their partners. "I'm going to try a back way to the ranch. There are a couple of unmapped dirt roads I doubt their rental is sturdy enough to handle."

"Let's go for it," Blair agreed. The last thing he wanted was to be used as bait to capture his Sentinel.

"What's going on?" demanded Jack, hissing static interfering with their call.

"Dad says we've got a tail. We're going to try to shake them," Blair explained.

Several states away, sitting in a wheelchair, Jack struggled to think of some way he could help his young friend. "Do you have your gun with you?"

"Yes, and my Swiss army knife and some water," Blair listed.

"I've got backpacks full of survival gear stowed under the bench seat behind us and a flare gun in the glove box," volunteered Chris. "Pull them out now, incase we need to bale from the truck."

"At least if we end up fleeing for our lives, through Colorado's untamed forests, we'll be well supplied," Blair commented as he turned to reach under the back seat. When he almost dropped the phone he paused. "Sorry Jack, but I'm going to let you go now. Thanks for the warning; we'll do our best to make good use of it."

"Wait Blair!" warned Jack, "Tuck your cell phone into your shoe. It will be the easiest way for us to track you if we need to, and it is often missed during pat down searches. Under your sock and in your shoe if possible," the former spy suggested.

"Got it," Blair assured, thankful he had decided to stick with his small cell rather than upgrade to the bigger screen with his last renewal. "Thanks again," Blair ended the call then immediately began unlacing his right boot deciding it felt to be the looser fitting of the two. He wasted only a few seconds consideration to determine tucking the cell along the inside of his foot would give him the best chance of keeping the device hidden while still allowing him to run unhindered.

"Son of a bitch!" Chris cursed. They were fast approaching a semi-trailer, turned sideways to block the entire road ahead of them.

"That can't be Brackett," Blair denied.

"It sure as hell ain't a sobriety check point," countered Chris.

"What about the off road trails you were talking about?" Blair could feel Brackett's well planned trap closing in around them.

"The access point is on the other side of that road block," Chris explained. Closing in on the semi, the agent tried to gage their chances of getting around it without sliding into the very deep gully bordering the road.

"But we can get around that thing, right?" Blair really hoped Chris aced whatever evasive driving lessons the military provided for their special forces.

"Maybe," was the best Chris could offer. "It's our only choice. Our tail is closing in. Grab the survival packs incase we need to flee on foot."

Blair followed his father's instructions, taking note of the cliché black SUV bearing down on their bumper. Two unknown henchmen occupied the front seat. Ahead, by the ever nearing semi, Blair saw a blonde head he thought he recognized as Brackett's. He barely suppressed the sudden impulse to draw and aim his weapon at the smug traitor.

"Hang on!" Chris warned before he stepped on the gas and swung to the right, trying to thread the narrow passage between the semi and the ditch. Brackett immediately recognized what Chris hoped to achieve and began shouting and gesturing franticly at the young man with him. Blair thought he saw the flash of sunlight reflecting off a long piece of metal, probably a rifle barrel. Then the truck swerved past the trailer; gravel spraying as the right tires sought to maintain traction. Metal screeched when Chris's truck sideswiped of the larger semi. A bang from the muzzle of a gun forced Blair to duck and Chris to tighten his already white knuckled grip on the steering wheel. The swivel of the back end suddenly intensified and Blair realized the bullet likely struck one of the truck's tires. "Hang on!" Chris repeated as the truck slid sideways towards the gully. Time seemed to shift into slow motion as the increasing incline forced the truck to teeter and then roll, end over end, to the bottom.

The tumbling of the truck combined with the clashing sounds of metal bending and glass shattering made it difficult to maintain his bearings. When the vehicle finally came to an inverted stop Blair released a breath he never realized he had been holding. Hanging by his seatbelt he took a quick mental inventory of any injures before attempting to unbuckle. "Dad are you . . ."

"I'm good," Chris assured. "Can you get out your window? We need to move." The ATF agent left unmentioned the ambushers sure to be closing in.

"Yeah," Blair grunted as the buckle released and he dropped gracelessly to the truck roof. Grabbing the survival pack he landed on, Blair pushed it through the broken passenger window, doing his best to widen the opening and clear away the more jagged bits of glass. He shimmied out the window, verified their adversaries were still loitering on the road at the top of the gully, snagged the second emergency pack out of the cab and reached back in to help pull Chris out.

"Sandburg," Bracket yelled down towards the upended vehicle. "You're making this harder than it has to be. Surrender and we'll go easy on you and your companion."

Blair felt a surge of anger at the former spy's words. When his eyes met his father's he could see the elder man appeared equally opposed to giving up. Setting his resolve, Blair un-holstered his gun and straightened to take aim over the truck's still spinning tire. Blair did not bother with the usual police warning. The ambushers had already fired upon them once and Brackett's announcement showed all, he knew exactly who his victims were. Blair placed the blonde traitor in his sights and pulled the trigger on an exhale, just like he had been taught. Any relief he might have felt at seeing Brackett jerk and scramble for cover was muted by the tingling sensation creeping beneath his skin. Then he saw him; a black haired, deeply tan teenager with gang tattoos on his neck and arms, who was cringing; not in fear of the enemy fire, but in pain from the overwhelming noise of gunfire assaulting his sensitive ears. Blair ducked back down behind the cover of the truck. "Brackett has a Sentinel with him," he announced with a mix of panic and confusion. Panic because while Vin might be a much more trustworthy and honorable Sentinel than Alex had been, Blair could not conceive of any circumstances under which he would trust a Sentinel with Brackett. Confusion because if Brackett already had his own pet Sentinel why would he come after Jim and Blair again.

Chris squeezed his sons shoulder to both offer support and capture his attention. "We need to lay down some cover fire and make a break for the woods," were his words, but with his eyes and hands the ATF Group Supervisor signaled he really wanted them to take cover in a nearby group of trees. Once he received a nod of understanding from his son, both men rose and fired on the ambushers who were starting to make their way down towards the base of the gully. After firing perhaps half a dozen rounds between them; just enough to force their opponents to dive for cover, they grabbed the survival packs and made a quick dash to the nearby cover. Within the shelter of the trees Chris turned back and took careful aim at his truck's exposed gas tank. One bullet latter the battered vehicle erupted in a fiery explosion thanks to the full tank of gas he had acquired in preparation for his son's visit. Knowing they would not get a better distraction than the fumes and flames of the wrecked truck's death throes, father and son scampered up the forest side of the gully away from the road and their attackers.

They were able to get a bit ahead of their hunters, but not so far ahead they could not hear them crashing through the trees in pursuit. Blair felt pretty sure they were fleeing away from Chris's ranch, though with his often maligned sense of direction he was not willing to bet on it. He let Chris set the direction and pace, understanding his father's years of training and experience were their best chance of getting out of the situation in one piece. Chris's knowledge of the local terrain would also be an advantage.

They had just hopped across a small stream and moved past a thicket of bushes when Chris signaled to stop. He snagged an energy bar and a water bottle out of his bag and indicated Blair should do the same. Half of a water bottle and several bites of an energy bar were consumed before he finally spoke in a hushed whisper, "How are you holding up?"

"I'm good," Blair whispered back. "I can keep going all day if it keeps us out of Brackett's reach." Blair continued devouring his own bar, knowing he would need the energy boost. Adrenalin could only keep you going for so long.

"There is a sheriff's substation not far from here," Chris informed. "But we are going to have to get past a grazing meadow and cross two roads to get to it." Unspoken remained the understanding that crossing the open terrain of the meadow and roads would leave them very vulnerable.

"This is your home turf," said Blair, "I trust your judgment. Sorry about your truck, by the way."

Chris offered a weary smile, "Better it than us. Besides my special forces training won't allow me to leave anything behind for the enemy to use." As he spoke he tucked the now empty water bottle and wrapper into a side pocket of his pack. "Ready to get moving again?" Blair nodded, following his father's example of stowing his trash to help to minimize the trail they left.

They moved quickly through the forest with Chris again in the lead. Blair was hard pressed not to look back over his shoulder at every cracked twig and rustle of leaves. Though he had not seen any direct evidence of their ambushers since before the short snack break, he was not foolish enough to think they were in the clear. The first road to come into view was not as bad as Blair had feared; trees lining both sides, meaning they would only be out of cover for a few seconds. Chris paused long enough to make certain the road looked clear of traffic, and then both men raced across. Back in the cover of the trees, Blair gave in to temptation and looked back towards the road. Coming out of the tree line on the far side of the road were two men, possibly the ones driving the SUV, but Blair could not be certain.

"Keep moving," urged Chris, "we're still almost a mile away." Seeing the bad guys still in hot pursuit became a great motivator to pick up the pace.

The trees thinned out and brought the meadow into view. Blair did not have time to feel relieved; another challenge had been reached. The tingling beneath his skin intensified, making his head swivel as he sought out the hostile Sentinel he knew was getting closer. "Dad," Blair started to warn.

"Tingling under the skin," Chris cut him off. "I can feel it too. Now I get why being around Vin had you so edgy at first." Chris led them down an incline towards the fence dividing the forest from the meadow. Several cattle grazed on the far side of a rolling hill. Chris's hand hovered near the fence line for a second. "It's electrified but we can crawl under it. The charge is pretty low; just enough to make the animals think twice about approaching, but it will still give you a jolt if you touch the line," he warned. Chris shucked his pack and tossed it over the fence before lowering his body to the ground to shimmy under.

Blair followed suit asking, "What about the cattle? Are they going to be okay with us running through their field?" He really did not like the look of the horns on the bull.

"They're pretty domesticated," assured Chris rising to his feet. "As long as we don't charge or threaten the herd they shouldn't bother us." One hand pulled Blair to his feet while the other handed him his pack. "We'll follow the watershed to the drainage tunnel. We'll be less exposed if we go under the road rather than over it." Chris pointed out the path he wanted to take.

Without trees to dodge both men were running at top speed. The meadow spread out widely; easily a half to three-quarters of a mile across before being broken by the road they were aiming for. It extended off to the left and right even further. Blair quickly found himself wishing he had inherited his father's long legs. As hard as he ran it just did not feel like he moved fast enough. Then a noise intruded into his thoughts. As a vehicle of some kind rumbled down the road; moving in their direction. Chris made a slight course adjustment to bring them lower into the watershed, taking advantage of the landscape's natural cover. Blair's boots splashed through the puddled remnants of last night's rain. He could see the tunnel up ahead; it looked to be about three feet in diameter. Too small to walk through, but crawling would be easy enough if a bit messy.

The approaching vehicle continued to move closer before skidding to a sudden stop, shattering Blair's hope it might be some random traveler on the road. He would have sped up a notch, were his legs not already aching from being pushed beyond their limits. The tingling sensation elevated to new levels; leading Blair to pray his new found Sentinel detection system did not work both ways. When he heard a door open, a quick glance showed Brackett getting out on the driver's side while the mystery Sentinel vacated the passenger seat. A corner of Blair's mind wondered again why Brackett seemed so determined to capture Blair, when he clearly would not need to use him as leverage against Jim. He ducked low as he ran trying to keep out of their adversaries' line of sight. The tunnel appeared only twenty feet away, letting Blair hope they might be able to slip past Brackett's goons. Even if they cut off the other end of the tunnel, with their guns and a few well placed shots they could likely discourage any one else from entering until help arrived. Especially since aside from the one shot fired at Chris's truck tire there had been no attempts to return fire when Blair and Chris used their guns. Maybe Brackett wanted to capture Blair unharmed, but Blair was not going to make it easy for him.

Blair reexamined his assumptions after a bang led to Chris staggering ahead of him. Reaching his father's side; Blair search for a bullet wound. Instead he found a tranquilizer dart stuck in the agent's thigh. Chris's, "Crap," seemed to sum up their situation perfectly. "Keep running," his father insisted even as he fell to a stumble.

"I'm not leaving you," Blair countered, "We just have to make it to the tunnel." Half dragging Chris, he pushed onward; just a few more feet to go. Then the combination of another bang and a needle slamming into Blair's shoulder destroyed his plans. He yanked the dart out of his arm, but it had already done its job and injected him with a powerful sedative, even now taking affect. He dove for the tunnel entrance dragging his barely conscious father with him. Chris retained just enough awareness to thrust his gun into Blair's hand before succumbing to the drug's grip. Blair pulled his father further into the tunnel and un-holstered his own weapon so he could aim a gun at each exit.

"Are you sure you got them both?" he could hear Brackett ask from just outside the tunnel.

The reply sounded garbled while Blair's vision started to get fuzzy. He leaned back against the curved surface as he tried to fight against the sedative invading his system. The guns were just too heavy to keep aiming; his eyelids too heavy to hold open. "Sorry, Jim," he slurred as he slipped into Morpheus's hold. Sadly, the only Sentinel to hear him was not his own.

* * *

><p>Author's note: The study by Emma Ashwin's group on the visual acuity of men diagnosed with autism spectrum disorders is real. I thought it would be fun to add a little science fact in with all of the science fiction.<p> 


	2. Seeking answers

In the time since Blair's warning call the Larabee ranch had transformed into a buzz of activity. Nathan raided Chris's gun safes, laying out on the table an impressive collection of hunting rifles and hand guns. Stacked high beside the weapons were a staggering number of ammunition boxes Buck even now added to. "You can never have too much ammo," the brunette insisted when he noticed Jim's appraisal.

Remembering SEALs in particular were trained to attack with over whelming force, Jim did not argue. JD worked online and on the phone simultaneously. A call to ATF Assistant Director Orrin 'Judge' Travis, let the man know of the situation developing and also checked to see if the judge's political connections could shake loose any more information. The young technical wizard ran searches with his laptop, and Blair's commandeered computer to maximize his intelligence gathering potential, while the display for Chris's desk top showed a four way split screen of Larabee's yard; part of a seldom used security system installed in and around the ranch.

Josiah and Vin entered the house from the side door. Josiah spoke first, "I've sent the horses to the upper pasture. They will be well out of the way if trouble starts."

"And I set up a couple of trip wires so we'll hear anybody coming," added Vin.

"Trip wires?" worried Jim. Last he heard booby-traps were still illegal.

"Nothing harmful," Vin assured, "just noisy."

"I could only find two smokers and four flash-bangs," informed Nathan as he carried a box of grenades into the room.

"I didn't expect you to find many," admitted Buck. "Josiah, do you think you could prep a few Molotov cocktails as backup?" The gray haired man's reply was to open the liquor cabinet. Through a handless headset he quietly apprised Ezra of the evolving situation.

A few feet away JD snatched up a ringing phone. "Jack who?" he asked the person on the other end of Larabee's land line.

"Jack Kelso," replied the caller.

"He's the one who gave us the heads-up, JD," Jim explained. "Let me talk to him." Accepting the headset Jim asked, "What can you tell me?"

"Jim when I called to warn you and Blair about Brackett I assumed you would be the target just like last time, but now I'm not so sure," said Jack. "Blair said they were being followed but were going to try to shake their tail."

"You think Blair is the one he's after?" demanded Jim. This changed everything. What good was fortifying the ranch if its protection could not help Blair? Then he heard it; the distant sound of a gun shot.

Vin's head snapped up. "Was that . . .?"

"Gun fire," Jim confirmed, "A couples miles away; south, southeast of us. It sounded more like a hand gun than a rifle."

"That tracks with the route Chris should be driving back here," informed Vin. A second later he scooped up a rifle, some ammunition and his car keys.

"Now hold up there," Buck blocked Vin's path to the door. "We are not going to charge off half cocked," he insisted. A small voice in his head whispered _'Things have to be bad if I'm the voice of reason_'. "JD you always say you can track any of us by our cells, time to prove it."

"I told Blair to hide his cell under his sock inside his shoe," volunteered Jack through the phone.

"Try tracking Blair's cell too," Jim suggested to JD. Then he asked Jack, "What else did he say to you?"

"Not much," replied the former spy. "He and his father were talking about kind of supplies they had if they needed to ditch the truck and go on foot. I wouldn't have been able to track down this number if I didn't have a contact in the ATF Denver office."

Distant gunfire, this time at least half a dozen shots, followed by an explosion tore Jim's attention away from Jack. Vin crowded in over JD's shoulder demanding, "Tell me you're tracking Chris's signal right now."

"Yeah," assured JD, "I've got him. It looks like they are moving away from the road on foot. Blair's tracking data matches Chris's."

"So the explosion," began Jim.

"Was likely just the truck and not them," Vin finished in a relieved tone.

"Explosion?" demanded Buck, his hand shoot and grabbed Vin's arm. "Would someone like to share with the rest of the class?"

"We heard more gunfire followed by an explosion," explained Vin. "Knowing Chris he probably sacrificed the truck as a distraction."

"No way would Chris going to leave behind anything for Brackett to ferret through," Buck agreed.

JD shook his head, "They're not coming towards the ranch. They seem to be heading almost due east."

"From where," Buck leaned forward for a closer look. "He's heading for the Sheriff sub-station. How far away is Ezra, Josiah?"

"He says he can be here in twelve minutes," reported Josiah.

Buck did a double take. "He's that close already?"

"I don't believe the Jag's speedometer has dropped below 100 mph since he left the city," Josiah estimated.

Vin spoke up, "Ezra, I take back everything nasty I ever said about your little sports car, but don't kill yourself trying to get here."

Jim easily heard Ezra's tensely drawled reply, "You need not worry, Mr. Tanner, neither my finely-tuned, precision vehicle nor I will let you down."

"Nathan, get on the horn to Sheriff Tater and let him know trouble is headed towards the sub-station on Crooked Creek road," instructed Buck. He may have promised to stay and guard Vin and Jim, but that did not mean he could not send others to help. "Warn Tater that Brackett is former CIA and a traitor to boot. He and his people need to treat the situation with extreme caution. Josiah, tell Ezra he should head towards the Sheriff too."

"Jim," Jack again demanded attention from the phone in his ear. "The reason I now think Blair may be a target is that General Colton seems to have changed the orders of several soldiers diagnosed with 'unified heightened sensory onset'. It looks like they may already have Sentinels and all they need is someone to help them function as successfully as you do."

Jim's first thought focused on Alex and all the damage the disturbed Sentinel wrought. He tried to tell himself he would have received some warning; a vision, a dream, even hair standing up on the back of his neck if a Sentinel threat to Blair existed. They may have been vague and difficult to decipher, but even Jim could admit there had been multiple warnings when Alex prowled into Cascade. Then a voice (sounding suspiciously like Blair's) reminded there had been no such warnings prior to his first encounter with Vin. Blair referred to the instinctive apprehension as some sort of Sentinel 'home field advantage'. Would Jim get any kind of warning at all so far from his 'home field' of Cascade? Maybe not, but Vin might.

"Vin, this may sound crazy, but I need to know if you have had any visions, strange dreams, maybe a weird feeling you couldn't explain?" Jim asked hesitantly.

Rather than mock Jim's odd inquiry, Vin took a moment to give it serious consideration. "No visions. I would have mentioned them to Teacher," Vin referred to Blair with the same honorific he had used all day. "I don't recall any out of the ordinary dreams. I felt a strange something-creeping-under-my-skin sensation during the end of our testing session, but I just wrote it off as a side effect of us getting competitive. It's actually gone away completely in the last couple of minutes."

Jim thought he should be relieved. Vin had not been warned by his spirit guide, but Jim's cop instincts insisted circumstances were certain to worsen. Turning his attention back to Jack, Jim asked, "What were the new orders for the soldiers you mentioned?"

"I wish I knew. The bases they were stationed at were notified by Colton they would be transferring, but the bases they were supposed to be transferring to have never heard of either man. If CID investigators hadn't been looking into Colton's recent orders we wouldn't even know the two men are missing."

"Jack, I'm going to hand you back to JD. I want you to give him all the information you've got on Colton and the missing soldiers. JD is Larabee's computer genius. If anyone can track down where these guys are it's him." Jim wished for something he could do, but while he knew how to run the standard law enforcement searches, the kind of computer investigations Jack and JD would need to do required a much higher level of expertise. Hopefully between Jack's network of connections and JD's technical skills they could track down some concrete information on where Brackett and Colton were operating from.

"Guys," JD hesitated, "I think something is wrong. Chris and Blair's tracking signals have barely moved for almost three minutes. Up until now they have been in almost constant motion, the only other time they stopped lasted maybe thirty seconds." The computer specialist pointed to the tiny set of flashing dots on the monitor. "Look, they're still more than half a mile from the substation, and they are out in the open. It doesn't make any sense to stop right in the middle of Crooked Creek road."

Buck again felt hampered by the need to hold the fort and guard his friends. "Nathan, has Sheriff Tater or his people reported anything?"

"He and two deputies are at the substation now, but they haven't seen or heard anything," Nathan relayed.

"Ask if they would be willing to check out Chris's signal," requested Buck.

"Ezra just confirmed Chris's truck is now a burning hunk of metal at the bottom of the gully off of route thirty-six," Josiah informed the others. "He says it will take a couple minutes to reach the Chris's signal from his current location."

Buck fiddled with his mustache as he internally debated the odds of Ezra racing into trouble verses their need to know what happened to Chris and Blair. "Direct him to the coordinates." Those within the ranch waited tensely to hear something new about their friends.

* * *

><p>A few miles away the tires of Ezra's sleek Jaguar squealed as he barely slowed for his turn onto Crooked Creek. The undercover agent eased off the gas peddle as he neared the signal coordinates Josiah fed him. The road before him lay barren save for a few recent skid marks, from an unknown truck; judging by their width and spacing. The only movement beyond the road consisted of meandering cattle grazing in the field. Pulling to a stop and flicking on his hazards, Ezra stepped from his car; his gun in one hand, his cell phone in the other. "Mr. Larabee, Detective Sandburg are you here?" Deciding he already stood as exposed as one could get, Ezra shouted even louder, "Chris, can you hear me?"<p>

Reaching the skid marks, Ezra paused to take pictures of the reeking stains of burnt rubber with his cell. Down the road a Sheriff's truck approached. Ezra retrieved his badge and credentials holding them up for display as he continued to survey his surroundings.

"You're Standish, right?" Sheriff Tater asked as he climbed out of his truck. "No sign of Larabee?"

"Not unless you count the new skid marks," Ezra replied. Then a reflective flash drew his eye to the gravel bordering the side of the road. The agent holstered his gun and slipped on a pair of evidence gloves. Crouched at the side of the road he found the source of the flash, half camouflaged by a weed. Ezra snapped a couple of pictures of its resting spot before picking the item up. The cell phone was not Chris's, but a quick look at the contacts list confirmed it belonged to Blair.

"I think I see something else in the trampled grass down here," Sheriff Tater carefully negotiated down the incline to the drainage tunnel. "Yep, there were definitely people here very recently. I can see shoe prints and scuff marks all over the place. It looks like someone tired to hide in the tunnel; there are two backpacks still inside." The law man moved carefully to avoid trampling too close to the evidence. "Shultz, get the cameras out of the trunk we need to photograph the entire scene before we start collecting evidence."

Ezra latched onto the word 'evidence'. "Have you found something else?"

Tater pointed to a patch of mud and the prize it held. "That little thing lying in the mud is a tranquilizer dart. Going by the blood on its tip, I'd say it hit its mark. I think it's time to declare this a kidnapping investigation."

Ezra sighed and accepted the Sheriff's judgment. Tater would contain the scene until the FBI could arrive to take over. All that remained for Ezra was to tell his friends. "Put me on speaker, Josiah." The usually unflappable agent took a calming breath and pushed on, "The cell phones have been discarded and the Sheriff found a tranquilizer dart. I believe at this point we must conclude that Mr. Larabee and Detective Sandburg have been captured."

* * *

><p>Sergeant Carl Smith had been in the army long enough to know a good mission from a bad one. Truth be told he learned how to size up a situation growing up in the rougher part of Milwaukee. Sure he ended up luckier than most, one of only a few students in his grade who's parents were married, worked honest jobs, were not involved in drugs or gangs, and really took an interest in their kids. Though neither of his parents experienced the opportunity to attended college, schooling remained highly regarded; seen as a way to ensure their children would have a better life. Carl was not dumb by any stretch of the imagination. He might not be the super genius his younger sister could rightfully claim to be, but he managed to hold down a respectable three-point-four grade point average. He even scored a couple of scholarships, but only enough to cover half of his first year of collage. Deciding he would not put his parents into debt to get a bachelor's degree, he enlisted in the army. Between the GI Bill that would help pay for his schooling once his enlistment ended and the money he tucked away out of each paycheck, college no longer looked like a pipe dream. Sure his family worried, but he figured he was old enough to take responsibility for his life, as every man should.<p>

If anything surprised Carl about being deployed into a warzone it was how similar patrolling from one village to the next felt compared to when, as a kid, he carefully traveled from one street gang's turf to another's on his way to school. He learned at a young age how the air seemed to take on an electric silence right before the shit hit the fan. Like three months ago when his unit had been sent out to try to negotiate with some tribal elders, he knew, as he walked through the battered and cobbled together buildings, things were about to go south. Sure enough an ambush injured and scattered his unit. Completely cut off from his command, Carl set about finding his own way back to safety. After more than four days on his own; eating bugs and plant roots while using stealth and evasion to remain unseen by the enemy, he managed to hook up with a marine patrol who, once they confirmed his identity, happily escorted him back to base. Only the troubles did not ended there. Instead of taking advantage of the R&R his commander granted after his tense adventure, he found himself constantly plagued by his own fluctuating senses. The doctors could not find any obvious physical ailments, and suggested, quite firmly, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder or PTSD might be the root of his problems. The base psychologist however offered another diagnosis: Unified Heightened Sensory Onset. (Apparently a condition too newly identified to have earned an acronym.) Then the head shrinker started going on about something called Sentinels. Before Smith could figure out what his diagnosis might mean for his future, he received a transfer back to the states to take part in some ongoing Sentinel study.

While the tests and sample-taking did little to please him, it seemed no more invasive than your average physical. He missed the guys from his old unit but at least the food signified an improvement. They provided him with a book about Sentinels, but he did not think he was very good at the whole meditation thing because he could not seem to get the 'dials' to work quite right. Then a rumor went around about the study's funding being cut. The corporal figured it was just a matter of time before he got sent back to his former unit. Then, three weeks ago, General Colton approached him. He explained the study was being ended because they were ready to begin the next phase of the project; a project Colton wanted Smith to be a major part of. The general sent him off with two weeks leave and orders to report at the end of his leave to a new facility.

The moment the sergeant arrived at his new post, things felt off. This was supposed to be a military project but aside from General Colton and a lieutenant who was apparently a Sentinel too, there appeared to be no military presence to speak of. Sure there were a bunch of brawny guys with powerful weapons walking around, but they were at best pseudo-military. Employees of one of the many privately run military forces that hired out to the highest bidder. He crossed paths with such men before and in his judgment most of them were a bunch of arrogant cowboys who like the thrill of playing soldier, but did not have the moral courage or responsibility to follow the military code of conduct while doing so. True he met one or two individuals from such outfits who were not so bad, but he considered most untrustworthy, and the Defiant Services personnel at his current posting fell into the latter category.

It did not help that the Defiant soldiers seemed to be taking most of their orders from Lee Brackett and not the General. General Colton introduced Brackett as a former CIA operative with valuable, hands-on experience with Sentinels who reached their full potential. The corporal's previous experience with members of the CIA led him to expect a bit of arrogance and a mountain of secrecy. However, Brackett not only would not share any information about his prior encounters with Sentinels, despite the fact that the whole point of this project required it, but he treated Smith's queries with such smug, mocking distain, the soldier felt hard pressed not to slug the guy on principal. When Brackett showed up a couple days ago touting another Sentinel he found for training; the disrespectful, loudmouth gang punk with him quickly convinced Smith both men were to be avoided.

Sergeant Smith's lone potential ally in this unmitigated cluster-fuck became First Lieutenant Dean Holtz. The irony being that General Colton and Brackett both insisted the Sentinels should avoid each other as much as possible, going on about territorial imperatives and the need to avoid dominance fights. But there were only so many times Smith could reread his sentinel manual, and boredom set in quick with nothing to do and no one to talk to. Curiosity also played a hand in encouraging him to approach the lieutenant. He waited until he knew they would be alone to speak to the officer.

"_May I join you, sir?" the sergeant asked, "Or is my presence bothering you. I have no interest in starting a fight."_

_Lieutenant Holtz chuckled before replying, "Relax Sergeant, I'm pretty sure all of their worries about territorial battles are overblown. At least, I'm certainly not feeling the urge to attack you."_

_The way the lieutenant said it made Smith think someone was giving Holtz the urge to throw down. Wondering if he might have something in common with the red-headed lieutenant Smith offered, "Maybe, but that new kid Brackett brought in sure has my hackles standing on end. I wouldn't mind knocking him down a notch or two."_

_The lieutenant looked a little more serious when he responded, "I'd say that has more to do with Antonio being a bad seed than a Sentinel." _

Deciding he agreed with the lieutenant, Carl began to relax. Or at least relax as much as any enlisted man could in the presence of an officer. They discussed the benefits and problems they had thus far discovered from their senses, debated the value of various techniques mentioned in the Sentinel manual and quietly laid the ground work for a relationship based on trust and respect. Something Smith remained unwilling to build with the others stationed at the facility. The two Sentinels got together at least once on each of the following days continuing to share information and create a tentative friendship.

Brackett looked shocked and then baffled when he spotted the two men having lunch together but simply muttered, "Your Sentinel specialist will be arriving within seventy-two hours," and walked away.

Two more days of calisthenics, reading, tests and boredom passed. Then a few hours ago a couple of trucks rolled through the gates and right up to the main building. Curiosity got the better of Carl and he easily prowled closer to the action to better see the goings on. The two limp bodies carried out of the back of the larger truck were not what the corporal expected to see. It shocked him enough he failed to duck out of sight when one of the Defiant soldiers looked his way. Putting on a mask on indifference Carl nodded to the mercenary, "I hope you guys brought some big refrigerators, because those bodies are going to start to reek if they aren't put on ice soon."

The mercenary shook his head, "They aren't dead," his grin turned nasty, "at least not yet. They're enemy combatants so they're getting tossed into an old storage room in the basement."

That bit of information surprised Carl enough to burst out, "Since when did this become a holding facility?" No way was this place set up to hold prisoners.

The mercenary did not seem bothered by Carl's question. "Who knows what the hell the higher-ups are thinking," he shrugged, "they just pay me to follow orders."

"Well, I guess I'll let you get back to it then. Maybe I'll see you later in the mess hall." Carl kept his tone as friendly as he could. Experience taught him it was never a good idea to let the bullies and thugs of the world know how pathetic you thought they were. Once he received a dismissive wave from the Defiant man he turned and headed straight for the lab. Lieutenant Holtz should be finished with his tests soon. Amazing how the daily tests and physicals Carl before dismissed as a nuisance, now felt suddenly sinister. He really hoped he had not misjudged Holtz, because it appeared increasingly clear this project was all sorts of messed up and he intended to find out exactly what sort of program he somehow got involved in.

* * *

><p>The first thing Blair became aware of was the incredibly uncomfortable bed he slept on. When he tried to shift nausea assaulted him accompanied by an aching head.<p>

"Easy," murmured a familiar and comforting voice. "Don't try to move too fast."

Blair decided to heed the warning by lying utterly motionless until the nausea, at least, passed. After his stomach seemed to settle he opened his eyes and cautiously lifted his head. Precious seconds ticked away as he struggled to identify the face hovering over him. "Dad?" Suddenly the memories crashed in; the call from Jack; rushing back to the ranch; the attempted ambush and fleeing through the woods. "Tranquilizer darts," Blair recalled rubbing his still sore shoulder. "Brackett?" he asked, realizing his random muttering barely qualified as articulate.

Yet Chris seemed to understand. "No sign of him yet, but I've only been lucid for maybe twenty or thirty minutes myself. Still, I don't expect we'll have too much longer to wait before he shows up to gloat."

Blair grimaced at the image of Brackett's smug face and sat up. The room they were in looked to be some sort of concrete bunker. One door, one light, no windows and Blair was not ready to contemplate what the bucket in the corner might be used for. A more personal stock of the situation found Chris's two survival packs were nowhere to be seen. Their guns and holsters were gone, along with Blair's Swiss army knife. His socks and boots lay tossed in a pile a couple feet away, but a futile check confirmed the cell phone he hid earlier was now missing. In fact, the only useful items he could identify within their prison were a couple bottles of water which, given their circumstances, he really could not willingly trust.

"Are the cobwebs starting to clear?" asked Chris. He hoped Blair's response would help him assess his son's level of injury.

Blair nodded as he tugged on his socks and shoes. While he did not know what Brackett planned, he wanted to be as prepared as possible for what ever the man threw at them. Blair just finished lacing up his second boot when they heard noise outside their metal door. Accepting a grateful hand up, the young detective steeled his nerve to face their adversaries.

Blair did not recognize the first man through the door. Graying and likely in his sixties; the army uniform he wore led Blair to assume he was most likely the General Colton, Jack told him about. Brackett followed on the General's heels and the unnamed Sentinel entered the room last. The two men who pursued them though the forest took up guard positions outside the door.

"Why Blair, you have no idea how much I've hoped our paths would cross again," Brackett said in an infuriatingly condescending tone. Blair had to bite his lip to keep from rising to the bait.

"Enough of that," scolded the General. "I want this project to succeed and for that we all need to find a way to work together."

"Respectfully, sir," Chris addressed Colton, "we need to know what is going on." The retired SEAL hoped he could reach out and make a connection with the other military man. At the very least, it might get them some information, and right now they needed every edge they could find.

"Larabee, is your name correct?" at Chris's head tilt the general continued, "Brackett mentioned that you are a former SEAL. You should consider your commission reactivated, effective immediately. As for you Mr. Sandburg, you have been drafted. Your country requires your particular expertise and I am willing to grant you the rank of officer based upon your cooperation. Fail to cooperate: your status will be designated as enemy combatant, and you will be treated accordingly." The man spoke as if he were discussing the weather rather than threatening legalized torture. "We have Sentinels for you to train. Once you have them up to speed we will present our accomplishments to the joint chiefs and all of my naysayers will be silenced."

Blair did not know whether to laugh or cry at the general's words so he settled for gaping shock. Surely this guy could not be for real; threatening to water-board Blair in one breath; proposing a joint chiefs presentation in the next. Behind Colton, Brackett's eyes danced with merriment, while the teenage Sentinel leaned back against the door frame with bored disinterest.

Chris had dealt with more than one pompous superior during his navel career, but Colton set new levels of extreme. With each word he spoke he made it clear why his command became sidelined; whatever he may have started out as, he was no longer fit to lead. Under no circumstances would Chris stand silently by while this man tried to dictate Blair's life. "Sir," Chris began, barely maintaining his respectful tone, "Lee Brackett can not be trusted. He is a murderer and a traitor. Back when he could still claim to be on our side, he acted in a manner so criminally negligent in carrying out his duties, that he was directly responsible for the death of a sailor within my command. Even if I were inclined to work with him, which I'm not, I would still have a hard time believing this is a sanctioned operation. If the Navy wanted to reactivate me they could have easily done so through proper channels. But since I know for a fact the draft has not been reinstituted; you have no claim on Blair."

General Colton looked like he had just been squirted in the face with lemon juice. "I'm very disappointed. I expected to have problems with the hippy love child, not the military man."

"But this isn't a military project," countered Chris, "or you wouldn't be working with the likes of him." Chris waved at Brackett.

"You wound me, Larabee," taunted the former spy, "truly, you do."

"Surely you're familiar with the phrase, 'desperate times call for desperate measures'," Colton continued to argue. "Once I've proved exactly how valuable and effective a Sentinel unit can be, all of this will be forgotten."

"You really think the kidnapping of a federal agent and a police detective will simply be forgotten?" It became increasingly clear nothing Chris said to the general would sway him from his current course of action.

"You would do well, Larabee, to remember," insisted Colton, "it is Mr. Sandburg who is necessary to the success of this project, not you. I would hate to see a man with such an exemplary military record be sanctioned unnecessarily."

Blair straightened and took a step forward. Up until now he had been willing to let Chris take the lead and try to talk some sense into the General. But he really did not like the most recent turn in the conversation. "There is no need to have anybody sanctioned," insisted Blair. "You said you wanted my help with your Sentinel unit. Perhaps the best place to start would be if you told me exactly what you expect me to do, sir." Blair forced his tone to remain respectful and ignored Brackett's derisive grin.

General Colton tilted his head to give Blair a long considering look. "I'm pleased to hear someone is ready to be reasonable. We have three Sentinels for you to train at this facility." The general motioned to the Hispanic teen Blair already identified as a Sentinel. "Antonio Milan is a civilian brought in by Lee a few days ago. First Lieutenant Dean Holtz and Sergeant Carl Smith will be your other two students. Over the last couple of years we have identified several Sentinels but their senses were always extremely erratic to the point of being dangerous. We acquired a copy of your dissertation, but met with minimal success," he explained. "Brackett put forth the idea that Sentinels need a very specialized teacher to allow their full potential to be reached; someone to guide their fledgling senses to new heights. Given Captain Ellison is the only identified Sentinel to effectively maintain his heightened senses for over a year without being driven into a psychiatric ward or loosing the senses all together; we have concluded that you are the Guide we need." When Blair did not protest he continued, "I expect you to have Holtz, Smith and Milan operating at Ellison's level within three months. So I suggest you get to work immediately." With that the general turned towards the doorway pausing only long enough to add, "Brackett you are in charge of making sure my orders are carried out." The general's boots stomping down the hallway were the only noise to break the tense silence to the room.

Once the sounds of the general's retreat faded into the distance Brackett stepped forward, "Personally, I'd love it if you dug your heels in and tried to cause trouble. It would give me a chance to get a little pay back for the way you shot me." The spy rubbed his right pectoral area, "Who would have thought a tree hugging, career student like you could have such good aim?"

The smile crossing Blair's face appeared unusually cold, "I doubt I'm the first person you know that has tried to put you down. Seriously, is there anyone on this planet who knows you that wouldn't go for the kill shot if given half a chance?" Blair's normally pacifist-leaning conscience remained surprisingly silent about his earlier attempt to kill Brackett. Something about Brackett always brought his darker emotions to the surface. During their first encounter that mostly took the form of fear, but this time around anger and revulsion seemed to be battling for dominance.

"Harsh, very harsh," rebuked Brackett. "You're not the wide-eyed innocent Ellison used to drag around. If I hadn't been wearing a bullet proof vest you might have killed me today."

"What a shame," Blair retorted dryly. Behind Brackett, Antonio chuckled with amusement.

When Brackett took an angry step towards Blair, Chris intervened, "The General just confirmed you need Blair's help for this project to work. Do you really think you can win his cooperation with violence? How is he going to get those Sentinels 'up to speed' if he's too beaten down to function?"

A parody of a smile returned to Brackett's face, "You're right. Blair is absolutely necessary to the success of our mission." Brackett turned and motioned for the two guards in the hall to come inside. Blair and Chris tensed as Brackett's hired muscle moved behind them. "But you, Larabee, not so much," he shook his head in false dismay. "In fact, I'd classify you as down right expendable." Another signal from Brackett and the goon squad pounced. The one on Blair pinned him against a wall before man-handling him to his knees. Chris proved more of a challenge by slipping away from the thug's initial hold, but when Brackett and Antonio joined the melee there was little the agent could do to escape.

Brackett stepped back once he felt satisfied Antonio and the mercenary had Chris firmly under control. The blonde traitor looked at Blair while his tone became conversational, "See, Blair, it's like this," Brackett threw a hard right cross into Chris's jaw snapping his head to the side. "If you don't give me exactly what I want, Larabee is going to suffer." A second punch plowed into Chris's gut.

"Okay," shouted Blair, "enough! You've made your point." Blair struggled against his capture's hold but could not get the leverage to break free.

"Maybe under ordinary circumstances it would be enough," conceded Brackett before he punched the ATF agent in the face again. "But Larabee and I have a history," two more blows fell on Chris's body. "Larabee filed a rather critical report effectively ending my career at _the agency_. I was a rising star until he interfered, and I've waited a long time to see him suffer." Another hit came to the side of his head.

Chris did his best to take the beating as stoically as possible; furious at being used to manipulate Blair, yet unable to stop it. He wondered if Brackett knew they were father and son or if this really was just about his petty, old vendetta. In the end Chris figured Brackett liked the sound of his own voice too much not to have mentioned the connection if he knew about it. As far as beat-downs went, he had been on the receiving end of worse (there were no generators and jumper cables, thank God), but Brackett definitely knew how to inflict the maximum amount of pain with minimal effort. Chris remained fully aware he was merely a medium of abuse, not its true intended target. Through the ringing in his ears he could hear his son's voice break.

"I'll do it! What ever you want," Blair shouted and struggled to no avail. "Please Brackett, I'm begging you, stop." The beating had been going on for just a couple of minutes, but it felt like hours. Chris hung mostly limp between his captures, his face a bloody mess. Blair's voice turned hoarse from his continued pleas. "I'll do what ever you want if you stop. Just please stop!"

"But I'm having fun," quipped Brackett. He took a moment to rub his sore knuckles. Then Antonio released the battered agent and leaned toward the spy to whisper into his ear.

Brackett barely took three steps away from Chris and the doorway before two soldiers stormed in. The tall red-head in the lead shouted, "What the hell is going on here?"

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with," Brackett assured in a dismissive tone. "You'll be called for when you're needed, Lieutenant Holtz."

The Lieutenant silently surveyed the room while the mocha skinned soldier behind hovered in the doorway, guarding the entrance. "Since General Colton notified me of the Sentinel specialist here, I would have to say that you are misinformed." Turning to the guards still holding Blair and Chris he instructed, "Release Mr. Sandburg and his friend immediately. Sergeant Smith and I will take responsibility for them from now on."

The guards hesitated uncertainly. "I'm the one giving the orders here," Brackett insisted with a dangerous glint in his eye. "You're rank doesn't mean anything to me or them," the spy jerked his head towards the two mercenaries.

"Then I'll change my approach," Holtz swung at the guard still holding Chris. The solid hit to his jaw staggered the hired gun causing him to release his battered captive. Holtz followed after the man grappling him just long enough to relieve him of his weapon. Carl attacked the guard holding Blair, with the detective eagerly joining in. The three way melee allowed Blair to confiscate the guard's weapon which he immediately turned on the young Sentinel flanking Brackett. For a few seconds the only sounds in the room were lungs gasping for air and the shuffling of cloth and shoes as the two injured guards edged towards the relative safety of Brackett. Carl gently helped Chris move further from the line of fire. Brackett and Antonio had both pulled their weapons during the fight; though neither fired, and now the two faced off against an equally armed Holtz and Blair.

"Don't assume you've accomplished anything here," growled Brackett. "I'm finished with Larabee anyway."

"Good," said Holtz keeping his aim locked on Brackett, "Then you won't have a problem leaving."

"There you go issuing orders again," Brackett pointed out. "What are you going to do if I don't follow them, shoot me?" the spy taunted.

"I disarmed an opponent. You're the one who started pointing guns at people," Holtz defended. Beside him Blair found it harder and harder to resist the urge to check on his father's condition, but he did not dare look away for even a second. He had no idea if he could trust the two Sentinels he currently sided with, but for the moment they were the lesser of two evils.

"You're going to regret crossing me," Brackett hissed.

"I'm not doing this to piss you off," Holtz insisted. "From the moment I got diagnosed with 'unified heightened sensory onset' my only goal has been to learn what I need to get my senses back under control, preferably without being permanently drugged or institutionalized. From what little I've been able to read and you and the General have both told me, I'm going to need a Guide to regain control. So please, explain to me why you were beating unconscious one of the only two Guides we have?"

Brackett looked momentarily dumbfounded, "Sandburg is the Guide, not Larabee."

"Sergeant Smith, is my nose mistaken?" demanded Holtz.

"No Sir, the similarities in their scents are quite obvious. They are both guides," Smith pronounced.

Brackett glanced at Antonio, "Are they lying?"

The gang tough shrugged, "I noticed they smelled the same, but you clearly had a beef with Blondie and I didn't want to interrupt your fun. Besides, I've already picked out my Guide, what do I care what happens to the spares?"

Brackett turned considering eyes on Blair, "So that little competition at Larabee's ranch was you trying to teach him how to be a Guide? And here I thought you got smart and decided to trade up to a newer, better-looking Sentinel. Tanner would be a vast improvement over sour-puss Ellison."

Blair's stomach turned at the idea of Brackett watching them this morning when they tested Jim and Vin's skills. "Keep talking Lee, there's no vest to save you this time."

"The best part is you could probably take out Brackett and his pet Sentinel with one shoot, since Antonio isn't wearing any ear protection like Sergeant Smith and I," explained the Lieutenant. "Firing off a round in an enclosed space like this room would cause some temporary hearing loss to anybody. How much worse would it be for a Sentinel?"

Brackett gritted his teeth as he realized he had truly lost the upper hand. "Out of here now," he ordered Antonio and the guards. "Don't think this is over," insisted the spy when he finally lowered his gun. "You'll be dealing with me again," he promised before he walked out the door.


	3. Playing to the audience

Author's Note: For those who have been waiting; I apologize for the delay. I allowed real life (in the form of my husband's surgery and a laptop repair) to distract me for a bit. Luckily both have recovered. I'd promise not to get distracted again but that just seems like tempting fate.

I also wanted to take a moment to thank every one that has reviewed or listed 'favorite' for this story, as well as those who named me a favorite author. I've tried to respond to all of you, but for those who have their personal messenger disabled; Thank You!

* * *

><p>"I raided the labs for some medical supplies," Carl announced as he entered his room arms loaded with provisions. "I also picked up some grub from the mess hall."<p>

No one wanted to stay in the tiny holding room where the older of the two civilians received his beating. When Holtz mentioned they might want one of the base doctors to take a look at the injured man, Blair Sandburg and the man he called Chris had been adamantly opposed. Chris going so far as to mumble through split lips, he 'wouldn't trust a doctor working with Brackett even if lying on his death bed'. Holtz let the subject drop and instead suggested Carl's room as a temporary base of operations since it looked to be the most defensible choice from their very limited options. Holtz knew there remained little chance of there group being allowed to leave the base, despite the way he forced Brackett to back down. The electrified fence line and the numerous Defiant guards would prevent an easy escape. "Did you have any problems getting what you needed?"

While Blair helped Chris along, the Lieutenant made certain the Defiant soldiers kept their distance, which allowed Carl the time needed to make his supply run. "No," replied Carl, "A couple of the Defiant guys followed me, but they didn't interfere." Carl frowned, "I'm definitely getting the feeling we're not on the same side anymore. The guards at the gate and along the fence line have been doubled, too."

"Did you see Brackett or the General?" Holtz asked. While the General had sent them to meet the 'Sentinel Specialist', the two soldiers were already headed that way after Carl confided in the Lieutenant about the unconscious 'enemy combatants' brought into the facility. Both agreed the situation needed to be investigated. General Colton remained unlikely to look pleasantly upon the way they attacked the Defiant soldiers and challenged Brackett, even if Holtz pointed out Brackett went too far with his revenge act.

"Bracket ordered the guard doubled," Carl explained. "I wouldn't expect the Defiant people to be too happy with us once word gets around about what happened. It's probably a good thing we haven't seen the General yet."

Chris sat on the sergeant's bed. He resisted Blair's suggestion to lay down but allowed his son to clean up his cuts and abrasions. "We appreciate the help with Brackett, but we could use a sit rep," said Chris using the military slang for 'situation report', "starting with where in hell are we?"

"I'm Lieutenant Dean Holtz," the red headed officer introduced. "This is Sergeant Carl Smith," he motioned to the younger soldier. "Both of us were diagnosed with 'unified heightened sensory onset' within the last three months. According to General Colton that makes us Sentinels, who with the right training and practice could become important assets to the US army. He gave us our orders to report here: Fort York; a deactivated army supply base in southeastern Wyoming. It wasn't until after we arrived when we realized that whatever this project is, it's not being run by the army. There are at least forty Defiant mercenaries following General Colton's orders, a small medical staff of half a dozen doctors and nurses who run daily evaluations on us, and that CIA prick Brackett. I suspected this operation of being some CIA funded project, but my theory doesn't seem to fit anymore."

"That's because Brackett isn't CIA anymore," Blair explained. "I'm Detective Blair Sandburg of Cascade, Washington's Major Crimes division, by the way. The guy Brackett used as a punching bag is ATF Group Supervisory Agent Chris Larabee, formerly a commander in the Navy SEALs. Colton tried to tell us Agent Larabee's commission had been reactivated, but that's about as legal as the rest of this operation." The two military men nodded to Chris giving him the respect due a retired officer, even if from the Navy and not the Army. "I think I remember one of you knowing my name. Did they tell you I would be joining this project?"

"No, I knew about you from my personal research," admitted Dean, "When my senses first started going haywire I searched everywhere to find answers and your name kept popping up."

Blair lowered his head as he considered some of the articles Holtz might have found in connection to his name. "My partner and I helped send Brackett to prison for espionage and attempted military theft a couple of years ago."

The two soldiers exchanged a look. "It doesn't sound too likely he would be released so soon," commented Carl, "do you have any idea how he get out?"

"A friend informed me just minutes before our kidnapping of General Colton arranging to have Brackett released into his custody about a week ago. Within hours both men dropped off of the grid," explained Blair. "He also told me the army decided against funding the General's 'Sentinel Project', so I have no idea where the money to pay all of the mercenaries, medical and support staff is coming from. I would be surprised to find the CIA involved in something which violated this many laws on US soil." Turning to look at his father he asked, "Am I being naive?"

"Not too much," Chris replied slowly due to his aching jaw. While Blair cleaned and bandaged what he could, Chris did his own internal assessment of his injuries. The list of sore body parts presented long and layered, but at the same time there were no broken bones or internal bleeding. Brackett obviously wanted to inflict pain not damage; or his injuries would be much worse. "After all of the trouble Brackett caused the first time he went freelance the CIA wouldn't touch him with a ten foot pole. Which leaves the question; who is bankrolling this op? I suppose it could be the NSA or some other agency, but it seems less and less likely any part of our government it part of this."

"A better question," suggested Dean "might be how we remove ourselves from it? I joined the army to protect our nation from foreign aggressors not participate in the kidnapping and abuse of law enforcement officials whose only crimes are knowing about Sentinels and being Guides. We need to get you off base before Brackett tries for round two."

"It's not going to be easy, sir," Carl advised Dean. "After our confrontation with Brackett, the Defiant Services people will be expecting more trouble from us. We can't count on any help from Brigadier General Colton; he's gone completely off the reservation by joined forces with Brackett. And it's not like we can fill out an Article 138 to appeal to his superiors and have him relieved of command." Carl would not usually speak so bluntly in front of civilians, but he figured this situation epitomized as far from usual as they could get. Besides, a sergeant's job demanded he make sure his officer became fully aware of the situation.

"No, you are right. We need planning and preparation if we hope to get out of here without anyone else getting injured," the young lieutenant agreed.

"By now, plenty of people know we are missing: my partner, Chris's team. I was on the phone with Jack Kelso just before they forced us off the road. The kidnapping of a police officer and a federal agent will demand a FBI investigation. I'm not sure how Brackett expected to avoid a major manhunt. Then again this is the man who once gassed an entire building as a distraction. He also stole a canister of Ebola to hold the entire city hostage with, and forced Jim and me to do his dirty work. Lee has never been afraid of drawing attention before, but it's not going to help the General's goal of training Sentinels in secret." Blair felt frustrated by his inability the figure out Brackett's end game. He never expected to be the primary target of Lee's twisted plans.

Did the former spy think his past sins would be forgiven if they could present a successful Sentinel unit as General Colton did? Perhaps the traitor thought he could bide his time until his own escape? Perhaps the most important question remained what did Brackett plan to do with his Sentinel protégé, Antonio? Being in such close quarters with Sergeant Carl Smith and Lieutenant Dean Holt might be making Blair feel a bit edgy, but Antonio's presence made him downright nauseous. Lee and Antonio together were nothing less than a match made in hell.

"What about the medical staff you mentioned?" asked Chris. He noticed the way his son's face darkened with troublesome thoughts. Not surprising considering Brackett's involvement, but he needed Blair focused on breakout options. The more they knew about the personnel on base the better their odds of escape. "Do you think they are aware of the General's actions or were they tricked here like you?"

"There are four doctors, one of whom is a psychologist and another whose background is research. Two nurses also work here; they seem to handle most of the blood work," Dean explained. "But for the most part I've only seen the lead doctor, Dr. Eckhart talking with Brackett and General Colton." The lieutenant glanced at the sergeant. "What have you observed?"

"Well the researcher guy, Dr. Millet told me he felt excited to finally get the government funding to study 'unified heightened sensory onset' in depth. So I don't think he's aware of what's really going on. But I'm not willing to vouch for any of the others," detailed Carl.

Blair pursed his lips. "It sounds like we need to do a little reconnaissance. The General said he expects me to train the two of you to be sentinels. The first step would be taking a look at your medical files. Identifying trouble spots you need to have addressed and assessing your current capabilities are things I could consult with these doctors about."

Chris really did not like the idea of Blair wondering off to 'consult' with unknown doctors. Honestly he did not want his son to so much as leave his sight. The SEAL within him knew they needed more information yet he could not be the one to seek it out in his current condition. The father in him hated the idea of putting Blair at risk.

Blair read Chris's hesitation but insisted, "We need to know if any of the other people here could be potential allies or not. I spent more than a decade amongst the ivory towers learning how to schmooze and butt-kiss both my professors and the department heads. Let me do my thing. Rest up for now, so when it's time for some commando maneuver to escape you're ready." After a moment the elder man nodded giving silent consent despite his concern.

Lieutenant Holt suggested, "One of us should escort you. While the Defiant soldiers didn't bother us when we brought the two of you here, I doubt they'll allow you to explore the compound on your own."

"So you and I head to the lab you mentioned. We'll get copies of your medical files and see what we can learn about the medical staff. Meanwhile, Agent Larabee and Sergeant Smith can hold the fort here." Blair felt less comfortable with the situation than his confident tone implied. He continued to feel uncertain as to whether they could trust these two army sentinels. He really did not want to separate from Chris with their reliability unproven. Yet their situation lingered precariously; it would not magically improve by them burying their heads in the sand and waiting for the storm to blow over. Tempting as it remained to wait for Jim, Vin and the rest of Chris's team to come rescue them, Blair could not. Brackett made it brutally clear; he intended finish what he started with Chris. Blair needed to take action to get his father safely out of the vengeful spy's power. Gathering information from the medical staff would be the first step in taking that action. "If anyone asks, I'll tell them you're teaching the sergeant some basic meditation techniques."

A disbelieving snort drew everyone's attention to the mahogany skinned sergeant. Almost immediately uncomfortable with being the center of attention, Smith straightened and explained. "No offense sir. I know you're the sentinel expert and all, but I'm just not very good at those dial things the manual mentioned."

"Dials . . . manual . . ." Blair looked thoroughly confused. "You have a sentinel manual explains meditation and dials?" If the General Colton had gathered enough information on sentinels to write a manual did he really need to kidnap Blair to get his project to work?

"Actually," volunteered Lieutenant Holt, "I'm pretty sure the manual they gave us is mostly based on your dissertation. Parts of it matched word for word with sections of your dissertation leaked to the press. You are credited as the primary author, if it's any consolation."

Blair felt torn between pride in learning his dissertation was now a 'how to' sentinel manual, and irritation towards those who published it without his consent. "So much for the lawyer's assurance that all of the leaked copies of my dissertation had been collected or destroyed," he sighed. "Tempting as it is to get my hands on this manual you mentioned and see what they have done to my dissertation; that will have to wait until after Dean and I have visited the doctors. Chris, maybe you can think of some alternatives for Carl. I know Vin visualizes a spyglass instead of dials."

"And meditates while doing Jujutsu katas," Chris pointed out another difference between Blair's Sentinel and his own. "I'll see if we can figure out something that will work for the Sergeant," he accepted his assignment. When it came to understanding what a sentinel needed from a guide, Chris happily to follow Blair's more experienced lead. "I want you to be careful though. Avoiding Brackett should be your top priority."

"It's not like we're going to go out looking for him," Blair assured. "Are you ready to go Lieutenant?" The officer nodded and opened the door.

* * *

><p>JD felt more than a little frustrated with the way the FBI decided to cut them out of the investigation. The Bureau would not even know about the kidnapping if it were not for them, but the feebs kept going on about procedure and protocol. They had been quite blunt about their opinion that Jim and Team Seven were too emotionally involved to professionally investigate. In defiance of their assumptions, and JD's own inclination to flip the idiots off, he gave them every scrap of information off of their computers about Brackett and General Colton. He even provided them with the GPS tracking data they used to lead Ezra and the Sheriff to the presumed kidnap site. It was not JD's fault they mistakenly assumed their copies of said data were the only ones in existence. Chris was a stickler about having backup plans and backed up data. Now the agents had at long last finished questioning him, he could finally get to work. JD refused to let the FBI do his job.<p>

Upon entering Chris's ranch he immediately noticed Nathan and Josiah setting up Ezra's and Blair's laptops. JD and Chris's computers were been collected as evidence (JD was going to be seriously pissed if he did not get his back at some point). Luckily Jim had the forethought to hide Blair's laptop in the barn before the Bureau Agents arrived. Initially, JD had thought Jim might be a little paranoid about wanting to hide the laptop containing data which spelled out, in excruciating detail, what he and Vin were capable of. Then the agents arrived to confiscate all of their computers including an old broken down unit that had not worked in over two years. Team Seven would be starting their covert investigation with a serious handicap were it not for JD hiding the portable hard drive in his jacket pocket. Clearly Jim's paranoia was justified.

The young agent walked over to his coworkers and handed Nathan the hard drive. Nathan face split into a wide grin. "Thanks for keeping this safe, JD. I'm setting up a conference call with your Kelso fellow. He said he knew some contacts who were supposed to be getting back to him soon."

"How is Vin doing?" asked JD after he noticed Vin and Jim sitting at the kitchen table speaking intently to a nervous Ezra. The computer genius could not hear their conversation, but if it was causing Ezra's infamous poker face to fail, it could not be good news.

"Chomping at the bit to go after Chris," replied Nathan. "It took just about all of Ezra's powers of persuasion to convince him to stay here until we could get a solid lead."

"So why does Ezra look so skittish?" JD wondered.

Josiah chuckled and explained, "Maybe because Vin informed Ezra, when he and Jim did leave to free their guides, Ezra would be at their sides acting as their temporary back-up guide." The profiler got up and offered JD his chair next to the computer before continuing. "Ezra felt uncertain he was the right man for the job, but Vin insisted he remained the only one with a good voice and the right touch. Ellison seemed inclined to agree so Ezra was drafted. I believe they are currently giving him a crash course on guiding a sentinel."

JD remembered thinking how cool it would be to have Sentinel senses when they first learned what Vin could do. Then he watched his friend struggle with his new abilities and wondered if perhaps the guides held the better end of the partnership. Now watching Ezra's head turn from one Sentinel to another as they pelted him with new information faster than he could absorb it JD only had one thought, "Better him than me."

Josiah rested a hand on the young tech's shoulder, "I couldn't agree more, son."

JD noted the drive was almost finished downloading its information. A flashing light near the bottom of Ezra's laptop screen signaled the readiness of his video conference with Jack Kelso. He clicked to accept the call and greeted the slightly fuzzy image of an older man in a wheel chair. "Hello again, Mr. Kelso. Were you able to learn anything new while the FBI tied me and my colleagues up with redundant interviews?"

"First, please call me Jack. Second, yes I did, actually. I believe I know where Colton is getting the money to fund his little project and if we can track it we may get a better idea of where Blair and his father were taken," the former spy eagerly shared. "I followed the money out of a supply fund the General possessed access to. I've tracked it to a shell company but I'm having some trouble getting into their files. Honestly, while I consider myself to be competent with computers I'm still a long way from being a hacker."

"Then allow me Jack. It's been too long since I gave my hacking skills a challenge and right now I am highly motivated," JD assured. He might not be able to hear a pin drop in another room or read text from half a mile away like Vin or Jim, but when it came to the information highway he could follow an electronic trail better than anyone.

Jim walked over and leaned down next to JD so Jack would be able to see him. "Jack, you should be aware, where ever Brackett took Blair and Chris; it is north of Denver. Maybe that will help you narrow down the possibilities."

"What do you know that I don't Ellison?" wondered Jack.

"Know is probably too firm a description," Jim admitted. "Vin and I are both feeling pulled north. I don't believe it's a coincidence. I just know we need to follow it."

"What? You mean you're leaving now?" exclaimed JD. "But we don't have a location yet."

"Figured we'd hop on Interstate Twenty-five north and keep going until the pull led us somewhere else or we got more specific directions from you," explained Vin. "We're taking Ezra with us to help if we need guiding." The sniper said the last as if placating his team. "We need to get after Chris and Blair now. We've already waited too long." If the others were frustrated with being questioned and then dismissed by the lead FBI agents, Vin could only be described as near incensed. During his interview with the senior FBI investigator the young Sentinel barely managed to refrain from shouting that they were wasting his time trying to do a job he could do better. He doubted Jim's interview went any better. They had been exceedingly patient while the feebs dithered around collecting evidence. Now the feds were gone and he would not wait any longer, not even for the sake of his team. He could feel his guide calling out to him from the depths of his soul. His need to answer that call burned through him like a wildfire.

Something of what he felt must have shone on his face because instead of trying to talk him into waiting a bit longer the others moved to help in what ways they could. Nathan grabbed food, water and medical supplies while extracting the promise that they would call him immediately if Chris or Blair were found injured. Buck and Josiah loaded Jim's truck with all of the possible weapons and munitions they could use and then some. Ezra left JD his top of the line laptop to continue the search, but claimed Blair's, insisting he might as well study Blair's work on the ride if he hoped to act as a temporary guide. Jack muttered from the screen about the best ways to search General Colton's past for connections north of Denver. JD went back to hacking the shell company's files to see where the General's funds went next. It was understood by all; no one would rest until their friends and guides were found.

* * *

><p>The half moon shed a fair amount of light on the compound outside Sergeant Smith's window. Blair watched the guard rotations outside but made sure to stay back from the window so as not to be seen. It was the middle of the night and Blair currently stood his turn at watch. They split the evening into three shifts between Carl, Blair and Dean. They decided to excluded Chris due to his injuries. Despite the tedium of sitting in a chair staring out a window; straining his eyes to see something in the shadows; straining his ears to hear something beyond his companions breathing, he did not feel the least bit sleepy. His mind continued to whirl, trying to process the happenings of the last day. No doubt at some point the adrenaline rush he currently rode would run out and he would be left to crash in exhaustion, but it had not happened yet.<p>

Hours passed since Blair and Lieutenant Holtz ventured out to the medical laboratory seeking medical files and the results for sensory testing for both Holtz and Smith. They also gathered information on the personnel staffing the lab. It turned out Holtz had been right in his assessment of the head of the laboratory, Doctor Eckhart. When greeting the doctors and nurses and requesting copies of the lab work and tests run so far, Blair apologized for his fellow Guide's absence letting it 'slip' that Chris was still recovering from Brackett's not so gentle persuasion to join the program. The revelation shocked several of the doctors and both of the nurses. It had not surprised Dr. Eckhart, head of the lab, though. His response culminated in a frown and the suggestion for both Guides make a better effort to comply with General Colton's wishes if they wanted to avoid having Brackett repeat his actions. Eckhart was unquestionably aware the General's operation qualified as illicit.

Doctor Millet the researcher continued to protest until Eckhart warned that anyone who questioned the General might find themselves or even their families suffering from Brackett's persuasion. At which point Blair felt compelled to step up and insist there was no need to further involve Brackett as he already agreed to train the Sentinels for the General.

Blair's comment drew a rather royal nod and smile from Dr. Eckhart who said,_ "I hope everyone else behaves as wisely as you," _before leaving the lab. Blair dismissed the uncomfortable silence by questioning the remaining staff in great detail about all of the tests they had subjected the soldiers to. His inner anthropologist eagerly soaked up the results they recorded. Blair's professional approach seemed to sooth the medical staff and they were soon excitedly sharing the unusual data they collected from Holtz and Smith. Their repeated acknowledgement of Blair as the lone expert on Sentinel studies certainly made for a refreshing change of pace. Blair eventually asked if Antonio Milan had undergone the same testing. Millet explained that Brackett claimed he would be personally training Antonio. Blair felt torn between relief to learn he would not be expected to work with Antonio and trepidation at the thought of what sorts of things Brackett would 'train' Antonio to do.

While he gathered the sense data Blair also made mental assessments of the people he talked with. Dr. Eckhart clearly fell into the 'not to be trusted' category. The rest of the staff could be described as either neutral or potential allies. Dr. Millet topped Blair's ally list after he quietly offered to get a message of some sort off the base for Blair. The detective declined saying it remained too dangerous at the moment. Instead, he suggested he might call upon Millet later if needed. Frankly, Blair hoped they would get rescued before any such need arose. The thought of slender, spectacled Millet facing off against Brackett, Colton or any of the Defiant Services goons made Blair nauseous. He would not disrespect the researcher's moral courage by recklessly exposing the man to harm. Blair had already decided they would use Millet in a potential escape only as a last resort.

Upon their return to Sergeant Smith's room Blair became pleasantly surprised to find Chris making progress with Carl. The Sergeant might have trouble controlling his senses through the visualization of dials, but visualizing a video game controller seemed to work great. Apparently, it did not matter whether it was Halo or Mass Effect 3. Carl happened to be an avid computer gamer when off duty. By visualizing the controller he so often used, he exhibited a significantly increased mastery of his senses.

Dean was also happy to realize it was not the dials that were important but the ability to conceptualize something he could easily manipulate. After trying a couple of different things Dean decided on visualizing an abacus with its shifting beads to allow him the most control. It had been a long time since he'd thought of the favorite childhood gift from an uncle who traveled to Beijing for business.

Blair quickly determined that Carl's strongest sense was touch and Dean's was smell. Carl seemed to be having more problems especially in the area of rashes. Dean admitted his senses started to fade, and only revived once he became stationed here. Dean further confided that in the last day his senses suddenly began 'humming'. Blair refused to contemplate the implication of the sudden resurgence of Dean's heightened senses so conveniently timed with their arrival. Instead he focused on ways to stabilize both soldier's senses. Their precarious position meant achieving control was the top priority. The last thing they needed was someone spiking or zoning in the middle of an escape attempt.

The four were left in relative peace as they worked through the afternoon and into the evening. Occasionally a couple of the Defiant mercenaries would walk by the hallway outside Smith's room. They did their best to ignore the distraction. The hardest part for Blair became not speaking of Jim. The Sentinel Manual, Carl mentioned, really was based on Blair's dissertation, something the former anthropologist confirmed by looking through Carl's copy. Which meant Bracket and Colton already knew too much about his private partner. Jim was more than just his Sentinel; he was also Blair's confidant and friend. The first true Sentinel he ever met and the only one he wanted to combine his life with. Blair knew Chris felt the same about Vin. Lieutenant Holt or Sergeant Smith seemed nice enough. He just did not feel a connection to the soldiers like he felt with Jim. Blair became more certain than ever; Sentinels and Guides were not interchangeable parts.

Blair loved every minute of data gathering and testing yesterday at Chris's ranch. Encouraging Jim to stretch his limits; watching him revel in his abilities became an incredible rush. Yet running similar tests with Carl and Dean roused only a little intellectual curiosity. The circumstances might not be the best but meeting two (three if you counted Antonio) new Sentinels should have left Blair bouncing with excitement. Instead he felt pain as he repeatedly bit his tongue against comparing his own Sentinel to the ones he now worked with. At least Brackett and Colton did not know how much Jim's senses had improved since Blair initially recorded his data.

At nearly dusk someone knocked on the door. Lieutenant Holtz answered it, hesitating a moment before stepping back to allow General Colton in. Sergeant Smith's room had been designed to be comfortable sleeping two. Holding four grown men and an extra bed, so they could sleep in shifts; it quickly became crowded. The General's imposing appearance made the room claustrophobic.

_Colton's eyes narrowed on the extra bed. "Do you really think it's necessary for all of you to share the same room?"_

_Blair could see that Chris wanted to say something to Colton. The tension in his shoulders and the narrowing of his eyes told Blair, Chris's words were likely to be abrasive, disrespectful and carry more than a bit of foul language. Under most circumstances Blair would enjoy watching a Larabee tirade shred the General to pieces. Unfortunately, Colton currently held all of the power and they needed to make nice with the megalomaniac. "It was my call, sir," Blair informed the General. "You said you wanted them," he motioned to Holtz and Smith, "functioning at Ellison's level. Well part of my success with Jim involved moving into his apartment so I could challenge and drill his senses day or night." Okay, so Blair interests extended beyond training Jim's senses when he moved in with the detective, but Colton did not need to know that._

"_Brackett informed me of Larabee's status as a Guide, apparently working with a Sentinel who is a member of his team. They aren't living together," the General pointed out._

"_Because Vin isn't a clueless pawn," hissed Chris unable to hold his tongue any longer. "He trained to be a Sentinel before you'd even heard of the word, General."_

_Blair felt amazed by the way Chris managed to make 'general' sound like some blasphemous insult. Colton's red face encouraged Blair to step forward to explain. "You need to remember, I didn't discover Sentinels, sir," Blair pointed out in a much more respectful tone. "Vin spent part of his childhood with a Native American tribe that knew about Sentinels and trained him accordingly. When his senses came fully online his abilities were not a surprise and he possessed much more practical experience to pull from."_

"_Perhaps we should invite Agent Tanner to join our project, if he possesses such valuable knowledge," the General suggested._

_Blair scrambled to think of a reason for Colton to not kidnap Vin when Chris warned, "Just don't be surprised when he takes whatever poor bastards you sick on him and mails them back to you in body bags." Even Chris's swollen lip could not hide his malicious grin._

"_Because, of course," Blair rushed to equivocate, "after our disappearance our coworkers are likely to view any approach as hostile. It would probably be better for everyone if they were left out of this all together."_

"_Very well," the General seemed to accept Blair's advice, at least for the moment, "But in return, I want you to cooperate with Brackett as required. I understand some unpleasantness occurred earlier. We need to move beyond such things for the sake of the project." _

_Blair wondered if there was a way to say, 'Yeah, sure, when hell freezes over,' without being openly defiant. Sadly, if such a way existed, it had yet to occur to him. "Sir, I have never openly sought out confrontation with Brackett," the Guide began, "But I feel the need to point out that while you've been upfront about what you expect, Brackett obviously has an alternate agenda. He blames Agent Larabee for ending his CIA career and has used the current situation to seek revenge. Which is why, as long as Brackett and his Sentinel remain on base I will be staying near Chris to watch his back."_

"_His Sentinel?" asked the General. "Are you implying, you won't be training Antonio for some reason?"_

"_According to your medical staff, Brackett insisted he would train Sentinel Milan himself," Blair informed, eager to point out Brackett's failure to share everything with General Colton. With any luck the two would turn on each other. "As for training Holtz and Smith; both men have settled on visualization techniques to help them exert some control over their senses. I want to address Smith's skin sensitivity issues tomorrow. Then we can begin exercising their senses." Blair handed over one of the papers containing his notes. "This is a rough list of some of the drills I want to start them working on. I would also like to request access to a computer, preferably a laptop, to record data and track progress with." The last sentence came out surprisingly calm. It must have been due to all of the years Blair spent as a grad student trying to beg resources from whichever bureaucrat happened to be in charge at the time._

_The General cocked his left eyebrow as he appraised Blair's earnestness. "I believe we can arrange that," he finally replied. "It will be a closed system, of course, with no internet access."_

"_I'm just looking for something to help me record and organize data, sir," Blair assured. "We'll be able to progress faster if I'm not wasting time writing everything down long hand." Access to the internet or even the network on base remained too much to hope for, so Blair felt unsurprised by the General's condition about the closed system. Right now he wanted to stay on Colton's good side, even if it meant taking on the roll of good little soldier. Naomi would have a stroke if she could hear him now._

"_Are there any other problems I should be aware of?" Colton asked. "Brackett seemed to believe there would be territorial issues."_

"_The territorial issues Brackett mentioned come into play when Sentinels are working in opposition to each other. Having military rankings already in place may have helped, but regardless, Dean and Carl managed to find a comfortable working relationship without my prompting."_

"_Excellent," decreed Colton. "I'll leave you to your work then." The general walked a good twenty feet down the hall before those within the room relaxed enough to breathe easy again._

Movement in the shadows outside the window pulled Blair from his thoughts. Long moments passed before a second movement conformed into a human shape lurking across the yard from their window. The first form soon joined another. Whoever they were they did not seem to be part of the regular patrols. Blair also noted they seemed to be looking right at him or at least his window. The flicker of a lighter igniting a cigarette illuminated the face of one of his watchers. From Brackett's smirk he was not worried about being seen. With his own cigarette lit, he tossed the lighter to Antonio.

The blankets on the bed behind him shifted. "What's wrong?" Dean whispered close to Blair's ear. Blair silently pointed to the shadowed figures in response. "Brackett and Milan," the lieutenant confirmed. "Brackett is trying to get Milan to listen in on us. The kid is having trouble controlling how far he extends his hearing. I guess he hasn't figured out how to work his dials." A hint of laughter filled Dean's quiet tone, "Why don't you go back to sleep? It's about time for me to take watch anyway."

Blair happily accepted the offer by getting up out of the seat. "Don't want to be tired," he noted. "Someone needs to work damage control when Chris starts pissing everyone off again."

"It's a gift," muttered Chris from the lower bunk bed. "Very few have the way with people that I do."

"A gift for making yourself a target," Blair pointed out. Chris's deliberate attempts to antagonized Colton and Brackett left his son far from happy.

"Better me than you," Chris sighed so quietly, Blair almost did not hear him.

"Damn it, Chris," Blair's words were no less vehement for their hushed tone, "drawing attention to yourself by making enemies is not the way to protect me. Not that I need your protection. I'm a mature man of thirty some years, in case you have forgotten." He'd given up looking out the window to confront his father.

"Easy Blair," murmured Dean, "You might as well just chalk it up to one of those things overprotective fathers do." The lieutenant stood and motioned for Blair to take the bed so he could have the chair.

Blair stood dumbfounded by Dean's reveal of his parentage. He and Chris had been so cautious about only addressing each other by name. Neither could risk giving Brackett and Colton any more leverage than they already had. Dean's strongest sense was smell. Had he figured out they were related the same way he discovered they were both Guides? Suddenly Blair did not care how Dean had figured it out. The adrenalin crash that Blair expected arrived hard enough to blur the shadows and forced a wave of dizziness. Blair pried his droopy eyelids open long enough to stare at his father. "Well it stops now," Blair ordered. "No more pissing off the psychopaths to draw attention away from me. I've got enough problems without panicking every time you open your mouth."

Chris quirked a smile. "I'll keep quiet," he conceded, "But if the opportunity to beat on Brackett presents itself, I'm taking it."

"Good enough, Dad," agreed Blair. He flopped back on his bed without further ado, unconscious before his head hit the pillow.

The young lieutenant was surprised to hear gentle snores emanating from the Sentinel specialist just seconds after scolding his father. "When he hits the wall he really hits it hard," Dean observed.

"Apparently," Chris replied simply. An affectionate look crossed the agent's bruised face before he settled back down to rest.

Outside Brackett's and Milan's forms were moving away in the direction of Brackett's quarters, leaving the lieutenant little of interest to watch. Dean felt tempted to question Agent Larabee. He could not deny he remained curious about both of the guides. Unfortunately, he suspected too much had already been said. The relationship between the two guides seemed obvious to him from the start, but looking back he realized no one else mentioned they were father and son. Their scents announced their connection while Blair's reaction told just as clearly they wanted to keep it secret.

Dean visited family while on leave, before checking in here. He noticed for the first time the way his cousins smelled like his aunt and uncle. Mike and Carol favored Uncle John while Kathy's scent seemed closer to Aunt Connie's. He felt especially surprised by how similar Uncle John's scent compared to his Dad's. The two brothers bore few obvious physical resemblances otherwise. When it came to Blair and Chris one scent could almost be mistaken for another. They contained the same base musk, the same overlaying aroma. Only the tang, which Dean thought might be created by diet or other environmental factors, seemed different.

Thinking back on his family visit Dean realized something else. His cousin Kathy possessed something in common with Blair and Chris; a calming minty-sandalwood aroma which all three shared. Dean remembered how he sought out his quietest cousin more and more often during his leave. Only around her, his senses seemed manageable. It was also after he confided in Kathy about his unusual diagnosis and admitted he wished his senses would just return to normal, when they began to do just that. Now he wondered how much Kathy's advice, that he practice focusing past his senses, related to their retreat.

Was Kathy a Guide too? Dean stifled the urge to wake Blair and get the expert's opinion. The last thing Dean wanted to do was bring Kathy to the attention of General Colton. The General's draft policy regarding Guides combined with Brackett's use of threats and violence could only bring Kathy heartache. She was finishing her second year of medical school at Stanford University. Dean refused to see her dream of a medical career torn away. It would be best if he did not even mention her name until after Colton and Brackett were taken down for their illegal actions. Dean became more determined than ever to see both men behind bars for the rest of their lives.


	4. The scent of a Guide

Lee Brackett pushed his way into his room marching straight to his desk. "Are you sure you heard Sandburg call Larabee 'Dad'?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Antonio Milan repeated for what felt like the fiftieth time. "I might not have been able to hear everything they said but the runt spoke louder when he said that. It didn't sound sarcastic or nothing either," Antonio insisted. He liked Lee. The former CIA spy could be described as smart and ambitious yet not afraid to get his hands dirty to get what he wanted. It was why he agreed to partner with Brackett. Antonio had no interest in being held back by the goody-two-shoes father and son team. Not that he was blind to Brackett's faults. The guy took distrust and paranoia to extremes. Still, he respected the way Lee could hold a grudge. More than a decade passed since he last saw Larabee but Lee still jumped at the chance to settle an old score. Antonio would just have to make sure that Lee never found reason the settle any scores with him.

Lee paged through his file on Sandburg. It included information on his wandering, hippy mother. Interestingly enough Naomi Sandburg did not start her traveling ways until about four months before Blair's birth. Her life prior to that existed solely in Picksville, Indiana.

Lee moved to open an electronic folder on his desktop computer. When he spotted Larabee with Sandburg the other day he immediately gathered information about the former SEAL. The new file was not as exhaustive as Sandburg's, but it told Lee what he needed to know. Chris Larabee had also been raised in Picksville, Indiana. In fact, he lived there until he joined the navy, just seven months before Blair's birth.

The information could only be considered circumstantial. It didn't explain why Naomi left the space for father blank on Blair's birth certificate. Nor did it tell when Naomi stopped saying she did not know the father and fess up to Larabee being her baby's daddy. Still, if it proved to be true there were all sorts of fun ways he could manipulate Sandburg with this new information.

Remembering Antonio, who continued to wait, he smiled at his young Sentinel. "Good work tonight," he praised. "Head back to your room for the evening. We can start training again tomorrow after lunch."

"Sure thing," replied Antonio, "later man." The Hispanic strutted away with a self assured smirk.

Lee found himself grinning as he watched the former gang member leave. Lee felt pleased with the way Antonio continued to develop. He never believed all of Sandburg's nonsense about heroic Sentinels who were all virtuous and true. Alex Barnes surely popped the bubble on that theory. Lee wished he could have met the sexy blonde before she fried her brain on whatever herbal concoction she mistakenly mixed together. Then again she had offed her partner, so maybe the risks would not have been worth the fringe benefits. Antonio was still young, but Brackett figured he could work that to his advantage. Once the kid got his senses working they would be a force to be reckoned with. No more pandering to Colton or anyone else. They just needed to be patient a bit longer. During their first meeting Lee really had not cared how Sandburg got Ellison to do things even Ellison did not think he could do. Later, joining forces with Colton was motivated by receiving the equivalent of a 'get out of jail free' card. Now Lee possessed his own Sentinel to train. He needed to know everything Blair knew so he could make Antonio the best weapon possible. Lee did not care how he pried the information out of Sandburg as long as he got what he wanted.

* * *

><p>Jim drove his truck the first hour. Vin took the wheel after a much gas and bathroom break. They were still headed north on Interstate Twenty-five. Soon they would reach the ColoradoWyoming border.

Ezra spent the time squeezed into the narrow back seat immersing himself in Blair's work. He started with the leather bound edition of the Sentinel Dissertation Naomi made for Blair months ago. It held an impressive collection of ancient lore and historical accounts balanced by a mountain of clinical data based on a 'primary subject' also known as James Ellison. The anthropologist even included a chapter of data based on a secondary subject. Ezra doubted he would have been able to write such a detached and unbiased account about the woman who nearly ended his life. Tying everything together was an engaging prose that kept the reader wanting to learn more. No wonder Naomi's friend had gone overboard trying to get the publishing rights. Blair's work could easily be transformed into a best seller.

Next Ezra began searching through the files on Blair's laptop. The bulk of Blair's data involved Jim, as to be expected. The staggering amount of information the young anthropologist collected on his partner surprised Ezra. His murmured, "There is enough here for a dozen dissertations," drew a snort from Ellison.

"Blair did say he had enough data for ten," the detective admitted. "That was a couple of years ago, though. I can believe there's enough for twelve by now. Probably even has sufficient information to write a dissertation on Vin too."

Ezra could only agree upon seeing the documentation regarding his team's sniper. There were copies of emails and phone calls between Chris and Blair concerning Sentinel issues Vin struggled to deal with. Blair also detailed his initial encounters with Vin both before and after the younger Sentinel came online. He even recorded several Kiowa legends which involved heightened senses. No doubt they were the same stories Vin heard as a child from his Grandfather.

Ezra ignored the file labeled 'Secondary Subject' deciding to keep his focus on the data gathered on Jim and Vin. He read and reread an email exchange between Chris and Blair on the various ways to help their Sentinels deal with spikes and zones. Next he discovered descriptions of ways to 'piggyback' senses in different combinations. Finally, he moved onto the newest folder labeled, 'Comparative Studies'. Within were Blair's rough notes on the visual and auditory challenges the Sentinels engaged in yesterday; inputted by Blair no more than an hour before the kidnapping.

The cell phone's ring commanded the attention of all three men within the truck. Jim snatched the cell from the seat tray. "Tell me you've got a location," he demanded. The senior Sentinel still felt pulled north, but he wasn't as comfortable as Vin following his feelings. Right now he really wanted a little independent confirmation the last few hours were not wasted on a wild goose chase.

"We've got a strong possibility at least," JD assured. "Are you three still heading north on Interstate Twenty-five? How far have you gotten?"

"Yes we're still on Twenty-five north. County Road One-twenty-six is our next exit," Vin spoke up from the driver's seat. Jim's cell volume was actually quite quiet, but being able to hear the other side of cell phone conversations was vital for undercover work. Chris insisted he practice until the skill until it became second nature.

"Please don't tell me we've been going in the wrong direction," Jim pleaded. He would be furious if his gut had led them astray.

"No, no, no," JD denied, "In fact, you need to keep heading north right into Wyoming. Between the money trail that I've been following and what Jack's contacts have been able to dig up we're pretty sure they are at a decommissioned base south east of Cheyenne."

"You're going to need to be careful," Jack Kelso cut in on the conference call. "It's not just Brackett, Colton and the Sentinels they recruited."

"General Colton," JD jumped in to explain, "hired a bunch of mercenaries from Defiant Services Incorporated. I found a copy of a contract for forty of them to act as guards for the base, probably there to keep Chris and Blair from escaping."

"That's not all," Jack warned. "It looks like several members of the medical staff were given orders similar to Lieutenant Holt and Sergeant Smith. More worrying is who he put in charge of the medical personnel. One Doctor George Eckhart was recruited by the CIA a couple of decades back for both his brilliance and his moral flexibility. Eventually his moral flexibility became more of a hindrance than his brilliance could compensate for and they let him go."

"Hell," cursed Vin, "just how slimy do you have to be to get kicked to the curb by the CIA?"

"I take it," Ezra piped up from the back, "that we are discussing someone other than Lee Brackett." Vin might be able to pick up the conversation from Jim's phone, but Ezra felt distinctly left out.

"Jack and JD were just letting us know who we might run into," Jim explained. "In addition to Brackett and Colton we're going to be dealing with a disgraced former CIA mad scientist, about forty mercenaries," Ezra paled a bit at that number, "plus some medical staff and two army sentinels who may or may not be aware they are part of an unsanctioned project."

In the back seat Ezra's lips set in a grim line. Even if they counted Chris and Blair on their side they were talking ten to one odds. Ezra suspected Mr. Larabee received some perverse pleasure in facing insurmountable challenges. The question lingered; why did Ezra kept following the fearless blonde? True, Ezra enjoyed beating the house advantage as much as any man, perhaps more. But when did too much become enough? Ezra shook his head at his own thoughts. Who was he kidding? He'd go rushing to Chris and Blair's rescue if the odds were one hundred to one. His mother would be dismayed to realize how strong his loyalty to Larabee held him. Jim spoke again pulling Ezra from his thoughts.

"Send the directions to Ezra's smart phone," the detective instructed. "We'll call you after we've scouted the base and seen how secure it really is."

"Just don't storm the gates without us," JD countered. "Buck, Josiah and Nathan are loading up the Suburban. Kelly's team will be here in twenty minutes. It's still going to take us a couple hours to catch up to you. Your Captain Banks is flying into Cheyenne with Detectives Brown and Rafe, so they should actually get to Jack's rally point ahead of us."

Jim glanced at Vin humbled by how many people were coming to help despite the risks. If they could wait until everyone arrived they would be fifteen strong, not counting Blair and Chris. It sounded a lot smarter than Jim, Vin and Ezra trying to breach the base security alone.

"We'll wait," Vin answered for both Sentinels. "But if they're hurting Chris or Blair. . ."

"All bets are off," JD finished. "I get it. Just try to remember that you've got back up on the way."

Once Ezra confirmed the directions to the base Jim ended the call. Silence descended upon the truck as two Sentinels and their back-up Guide contemplated how they could rescue their friends.

* * *

><p>This morning's wake up began as a vast improvement over yesterday's crawl to consciousness. Blair woke in a warm bed for a start. Chris was already awake and insisting he had been babied enough; he wanted to get up and moving. The ATF agent demanded a tour of the base so he could get a better feel for their situation. Blair recognized a losing fight when he saw one. He conceded on the condition that they start the tour in the mess hall with some breakfast. When they made it through a second helping of bacon and eggs without seeing Brackett or his Sentinel protégé Antonio, Blair counted it as a win.<p>

The four men stopped at the medical lab next. Blair introduced his father to Dr. Millet as well as the other doctors and nurses on staff. The only one absent appeared to be Dr. Eckhart which Blair could not regret. The Guides observed while Dean and Carl were put through their daily physical. Sometimes Blair questioned what purpose a particular test served, other times he offered suggestions on ways to make the examination less stressful to heightened senses. One of the nurses, Linda, convinced Chris to let her check his injuries. Blair smirked when the big tough federal agent caved to the willpower of a petite, no-nonsense redhead.

The relaxed atmosphere evaporated when Doctor Eckhart and General Colton arrived together. The way everyone jumped to attention, soldiers and medical staff alike, caused Blair to straighten without intention. Chris also stood; though Blair got the feeling he did it to satisfy his son not show respect for the General.

"I'm pleased to see you all working bright and early," boomed the General. "How are things progressing this morning, Doctor Sandburg?"

Blair was stunned momentarily mute upon hearing the long sought after title on the lips of the man who engineered his forced servitude.

"I believe he prefers to be addressed as Detective Sandburg," Chris's voice pulled Blair from his shock while the supportive hand on his shoulder steadied him.

"Right," Blair gathered his wits for a reply. "I earned my Detective's shield. I have a master's degree in anthropology, but I never defended my dissertation. I hope you weren't misled on that point."

"I'm aware your former university, Rainer, did not allow you to present your dissertation. However there are those in the military who have been aware of Unified Heightened Sensory Onset for some time. The war college found your dissertation so impressively documented they accepted it as is," General Colton announced with pleasure.

"War College?" Blair looked to Chris for clarification.

"I believe he's talking about the United States Army War College. The military founded it to train high level military and civilian personnel in strategic leadership, but it also reviews papers and award degrees when the subject matter is classified," Chris explained. "The other branches of the military, as well as the State Department each run their own War College. I received my Master's degree in National Security and Strategic Studies from the Naval War College."

"I have a doctorate in a classified subject; awarded to me by a _'war'_ college I never attended," Blair summarized with disbelief thick in his voice. Then another notion occurred. "I'm never going to be able to explain this to Naomi."

Chris winced at just the thought of how Naomi would react to the news. "Well there's at least one reason to be glad everything is classified," he observed dryly.

"Who's Naomi?" asked Carl. He could not help but wonder what kind of woman would be able to intimidate both Guides.

"Naomi Sandburg," began General Colton grimly, "is a radical, left-leaning socialist who will have nothing to do with this project."

Chris tightened his grip on Blair's shoulder. His son might usually be the most laid back of the two, but an insult to his mother was apt to make Blair fighting mad. "You mentioned all of us trying to get along," reminded Chris before Blair could speak. "Perhaps denigrating each others' family members isn't the best way to go about it."

Colton looked ready to continue on with his character assessment or assassination depending upon one's view point. A look at Blair's suddenly hard face seemed to make the General reconsider. "Let us agree Ms. Sandburg is not Army material and leave it at that," he suggested.

Blair huffed in sudden amusement. "Even Naomi could agree with that." The absurdity of Colton and Naomi agreeing on anything shook loose the last remnants of Blair's shock. This conversation started with the General asking for a progress report; time for Blair to play the role of good little soldier. "Anyway, so far this morning we have isolated where the majority of Sergeant Smith's skin rashes have come from. He is just having a strong reaction to the detergent his uniforms were being washed with. That is easily adjusted for. We have also been working with the medical staff, going over past test results and identifying which areas we will want to work on first." Blair tried to say as much as possible while revealing nothing of substance. He could not change what they already knew about Dean and Carl, but if he could disguise how quickly their control over their senses improved it would give them another advantage they sorely needed.

"Well I have the laptop you requested to help you," offered Colton with a benign smile. "Doctor Eckhart as already transferred all of the relevant data for your use."

"Thank you sir," Blair accepted the silver device. He forced a happy; even eager look of anticipation on his face while privately thinking he would have to be very careful about what he typed into the computer. The General was sure to have the thing bugged in some fashion. Blair felt like he was neck deep in an undercover operation without the benefit of backup. "I wanted to ask about the blood tests. Doctor Millet explained most of what you have been tracking, but he said Doctor Eckhart also took samples for something else."

General Colton turned to Eckhart and gave him a nod. "I've been using the samples," began Doctor Eckhart, "taken from Lieutenant Holtz and Sergeant Smith to isolate which genes relate to Unified Heightened Sensory Onset. Looking for the Sentinel gene, you might say."

Blair really didn't like the idea of someone with as few morals as Eckhart messing with others DNA. Sadly his role of 'good soldier' wouldn't allow him to challenge the man's ethics. "Well, I know everyone is all about DNA these days, but I doubt you'll be able to track the Sentinel condition to just one gene. They are more likely to be a dozen or more all acting in concert. That doesn't even take into account the impacting environmental factors. After all, if it was just a matter of being born with the right genes it wouldn't take decades for their abilities to surface." Blair shrugged letting his frown suggest the futility of Eckhart's quest. "Good luck with that."

"You know I think Blair has an excellent point," suggested a new voice. Brackett entered the room with his trademark smirk in place. "We've been able to find quite a few Sentinels without genetic testing. Perhaps we should focus our genetic research on the problem of finding Guides. After all, we do have the only two identified Guides right here, and the fact that they're related certainly indicates it may be an inherited trait."

Blair cursed internally. He had known Brackett and Antonio were outside their building trying to listen in on them last night. Sure Dean said Antonio was having trouble with his dials, but Blair should not have assumed they were safe. It would have been better for him to deny any connection when Dean brought it up. Instead, in his exhaustion, Blair confirmed Dean's belief by calling Chris 'Dad'. Antonio must have heard and passed it on to Lee.

"What are you talking about?" asked General Colton. His head swiveled from Blair to Brackett.

"Didn't Blair tell you that Larabee is his daddy, yet?" Brackett queried in mock shock. "Anyway, I find it hard to believe both father and son seem to have this elusive Guide ability, when all of the other people who have tried to use Sandburg's guiding techniques have failed. The only explanation I can come up with is that their ability is something unique to them, perhaps passed down from father to son."

"That is a very interesting theory," Doctor Eckhart spoke up for the second time. The man examined Chris and Blair much like they were bugs under a microscope. Blair never understood Jim's desire not to be treated like a lab rat more. "One we should seriously consider testing."

"Wait a minute," Colton interrupted, "Sandburg's father is listed as unknown on his birth certificate. Besides, the two look nothing alike."

Blair momentarily considered latching onto Colton's disbelief and denying Brackett's latest bit of information. The reality that their biological connection could easily be checked halted those thoughts. Chris shot Lee such a nasty glare it was amazing the former spy did not spontaneously combust on the spot.

"That is because Blair favors his mother's side of the family, General," Chris explained through gritted teeth.

"You mean Naomi," began Brackett. His voice sounded both amused and superior until Chris cut it off.

"I mean, Naomi was my high school sweet heart. She faced a lot of tough choices when I was captured and declared killed in action by the Navy. She did the best she could under the circumstances," Chris insisted firmly. "None of which has anything to do with our current situation."

"I beg to differ," countered Lee. "If your ability is genetic, this is all very relevant." The spy turned traitor addressed Doctor Eckhart. "No doubt you'll want to take blood and DNA samples. Do you think you'll need sperm samples too?"

Blair barely stopped Chris from attacking Lee. Not an easy thing when his own impulse urged him to smack the grin off of Brackett's face.

"Will you be offering up samples too?" asked Lieutenant Holtz. The two Sentinel soldiers, so quiet up until now many forgot they were in the room, again became the focus of attention.

"What are you talking about?" demanded Brackett. He enjoyed the opportunity to toy with Blair and Chris, and did not like the interruption.

"I mean will you be volunteering samples of your blood, DNA and sperm, as you're also a Guide of sorts," Dean inquired. The Lieutenant knew he bore much of the responsibility for the revelation of Blair's paternity. It might be too late to take it back, but he could muddy the waters with another secret.

"Don't be ridiculous," dismissed Brackett. "I'm not a Guide."

"Isn't that the same thing you said about Larabee?" Dean argued.

"What makes you think Mister Brackett is a Guide," asked Doctor Eckhart his mad scientist's eyes now locked on the disgraced spy.

"The same thing that told me Detective Sandburg and Agent Larabee are Guides," Dean replied. "It's all in their aroma. Each man has some variation of minty-sandalwood, though some are more pleasant than others."

"Now I know you're making this up," charged Brackett. "If we all have the same smell how can some be more pleasant."

"I said you each possessed a variation of minty-sandalwood, not that you all smelled the same," Dean clarified as though talking to a particularly confused child. "Blair's mint smells like it was just plucked from the plant, and his sandalwood is newly cut. Chris's mint is a bit more pungent as though recently chopped, and his sandalwood smells freshly sanded. Each is a little different but they are both still the minty-sandalwood scent that signifies Guide for me."

"You never mentioned the ability to recognize Guide scent before," Eckhart pointed out even as he updated his information on his tablet.

"Honestly, while I read about scent recognition and the Sentinel / Guide relationship in the manual it didn't come together for me until I walked into that room to discover Bracket beating on Larabee. Adrenaline ran high and I could smell the scents of all three men floating in the air," Dean explained. "Even under extremely tense circumstances I found Blair and Chris's scents to be soothing. I also felt a strong impulse to protect both men."

"You certainly weren't trying to protect me," snorted Lee.

"Because unlike their aromas, yours is a bit offensive," admitted Dean. "Your mint smells like it got tossed aside and left to mold, while your sandalwood carries a hint of rot. Though Antonio doesn't seem to mind as he has happily claimed you as his Guide." Personally Dean thought Antonio just as offensive as Brackett but he probably already exceeded his disrespectful quota for the day.

Lee quietly seethed, unsure how to either counter the lieutenant's insults or verify his claims. Instead Eckhart spoke up again. "How fascinating; all that time spent trying to find the elusive Sentinel's Guide and here you have been one all along, yet never realized it." Eckhart turned to General Colton. "I think blood samples from each of the three should give us a good start narrowing down the genetics of what makes a Guide. Considering how difficult it has been to find Guides up until now I would like to make this our new priority."

Colton nodded thoughtfully before dismissing the group with a, "Carry on." Eckhart ordered Linda to collect the blood samples. Blair didn't waste the effort to protest. Despite the way they were allowed to roam the base they were still prisoners in a jail of Colton's making. Not even the confiscated side arms they were permitted to carry changed the trap they were in. Seeing Bracket grimace through his blood draw was at least a small if somewhat petty enjoyment. He wondered if Brackett would try to flee when the realization hit that he had become just as vulnerable to Colton's 'draft' as Blair and Chris were. Blair figured the chances were good once he witnessed the way Brackett stormed out of the lab the second the nurse removed the needle from his arm. Doctor Eckhart left a moment later with three sealed vials and instructions for two of the doctors to accompany him and assist with the analysis.

Doctor Millet waited until Eckhart entered another part of the lab down the hall before offering, "Would you like for me to try and get a message out now?"

Blair gave it some serious consideration. They had been here for over a day now with no idea if the others held any clue how to track their location. Blair knew Jim would move heaven and earth to find him, but he didn't know how much of a trail Brackett left for them to follow. Brackett knew enough about Jim's senses to be able to hide many potential clues. The idea of Eckhart using Blair's blood to develop some Guide identification test that would lead to others being 'drafted' turned his stomach. He tried to tell himself that things would never go that far, but a cynical voice reminded of the times their government failed to live up to the high ideals it had been founded upon. Perhaps most importantly, Blair was tired of pretending to go along with Colton's project; tired of playing Brackett's little mind games. He wanted out of this gilded cage and he wanted out now!

"Not just yet," insisted Chris. Blair spun in his father's direction surprised their thoughts were so far apart. Chris smiled back knowingly. "Call it a feeling, but I don't think we're as alone as it might seem right now." Blair wondered if Chris was indulging in a bit of wishful thinking. Yet even though most would peg Naomi as the parent most in touch with their feelings, Chris often exhibited a strong intuitive side. Something Blair quickly learned to respect and trust. Before Blair could question Chris the older Guide suggested, "Why don't we take Dean and Carl outside and start working on some of those exercises you mentioned. I think we've been stuck inside enough." Blair nodded, deciding he would trust where Chris led them.

* * *

><p>"Are you sure this is a good idea?" asked Major Crimes Captain Simon Banks. He was never very good at sitting on the sidelines while others made choices without him. He respected Jim's superior experience when it came to covet action, but he also knew Jim took greater risks when Blair needed rescue.<p>

"We need to get eyes on the place they are holding Chris and Blair," Jim insisted. "We need to verify just how many mercenaries we're going to be going up against; how well armed and trained they are. Vin and I aren't going to try to take the place on our own but we need more information before we can launch an assault."

"How close is the rest of my team?" asked Vin as he pulled a plain tan shirt over his head.

"JD's last check-in put them at about an hour away," replied Detective Rafe. He took over coordinating between the groups upon arrival. "I also just took a call from Jack Kelso. The Department of Defense contacted him. They wanted to reiterate General Colton's Sentinel Project was not approved nor was the release of Lee Bracket. The FBI will be raiding the Washington D.C. headquarters of Defiant Services tomorrow at nine am. DSI never acquired the proper licenses to operate in the U.S. Combine that with their collusion in the kidnappings of two law enforcement officers and their upper management is looking at jail time. Jack was also told that a hostage retrieval unit is flying into Cheyenne and will be at our disposal if we should need more assistance."

Jim frowned at the idea of people so high up the government chain of command being aware of his actions. "What happens if we don't want their assistance?" he asked.

"Jack said they would only act at our request," Rafe informed. "He said they were being unusually accommodating for the DOD, which meant they presumably want something from you or Blair, but for now it probably wouldn't hurt to have a few extra guns on our side."

Jim glanced at Vin who shrugged, "I don't have nearly as many issues with the military as you."

"For now we will leave them in Cheyenne," Jim decided. "Are you ready to go?" he asked Vin.

"Yep, tell my team we will be back in three, four hours at the latest," instructed the sharpshooter. "Jim's right; the last thing we want is to go in blind. We'll be careful; approach from cover and never get too close. The infrared scopes Jack Kelso sent with you will help us pinpoint where everyone is and hopefully limit surprises. Ezra will be with us and we're not doing anything I haven't done a hundred times before. This will give us the intelligence we need to get Chris and Blair out safely," Vin glanced at the afternoon sun, "hopefully before the sun rises again in the morning."

* * *

><p>Brackett stopped by his room. He did not pack up his things; that would be too obvious. Instead he slipped all of his ready cash as well as the forged identification for Antonio and himself into various hidden places on his person. When General Colton first approached him months ago with crazy ideas about drafting Sentinels and Guides into serving the military Lee encouraged him. At the time he thought it would be a nice bit of revenge on Ellison and Sandburg. He never bothered to think about what it would mean for others identified as Sentinels or Guides, not that he would have cared much. The list of people that the spy turned freelancer bothered to expend concern on stayed very short. At the moment it consisted of two names: Lee Brackett and Antonio Milan. Lee assured himself Antonio's name joined his own on the list for logical reasons, not because of some deep mystical bond Sandburg would no doubt wax poetic about. Lee was simply smart enough to recognize how advantageous controlling your own personal Sentinel could be. Antonio, thankfully, proved too smart to fall for the higher purpose, blessed protector drivel.<p>

The only problem now regarded the exposure of Brackett's apparent Guide status. No way would he remain Colton's little lap dog indefinitely. Brackett assumed from the beginning he would have to cut his losses and bail on the General at some point. Only Colton was stupid enough to think that they would be able to keep all of the money, resources and personnel funneled into this project hidden for months on end without anybody noticing. Throw the kidnappings on top and eventual exposure became inevitable; someone would track them down. Personally, Lee's money was on Ellison. He could be one stubborn, determined SOB when it came to going after what he wanted, especially if it involved Sandburg. Either way Lee had no intention of being around when Colton's little fantasy crumbled to dust. It would have been nice to hang around for a while longer; enjoy the show of idealistic Blair compromising his principles to protect his father. The anthropologist (he still could not think of Blair as a detective) possessed one of those incredibly expressive faces that made torture so entertaining, and beating on Larabee would always be fun. Just not fun enough to risk his recently regained freedom on.

A rap on his door was the only warning before the wood barrier pushed open to reveal Antonio. "Hey, are you hungry? I'm going to get some breakfast . . . or lunch; whatever," said the Hispanic teen. He looked fresh out of bed; his hair spiking at odd angles and his shirt very rumpled.

Suddenly some of the less than charitable comments Lieutenant Holtz spoke echoed through Lee's head. "Do you consider me your Guide?"

"Of course," replied Antonio with surprise. Uncertain what to make of the expression on Lee's face he pointed out, "You were the one who explained to me about these funky abilities. You said you wanted to help me reach my full potential as a Sentinel. What was this game about if not us becoming Sentinel and Guide?"

"So you didn't want to train with Sandburg because you preferred me as a Guide?" Lee applied all of his experience in spy craft to discern Antonio's motives.

"Sure," snorted Antonio, "Why would I want to waste time with some do-gooder cop who would probably spend all of his time preaching at me?"

"Tell me what I smell like," instructed Lee. "Is it moldy spice and rotten wood?"

"Moldy what?" asked Antonio. "That's loco."

"Just describe my aroma," Lee insisted. He wasn't sure why he kept pursuing this idea; why it felt so important. The spy blamed the lieutenant for getting the word 'aroma' stuck in his head. He refused to believe he continued with this line of questioning because Dean's assertion that he smelled offensive stung; he didn't give a shit what Holtz thought.

"Okay," Antonio submitted. "First off you don't smell moldy. Maybe a little fermented, but in a good way like the really smooth liqueur . . . what's it called . . . cream of mint?"

"Crème de mint," Lee clarified.

"Yeah that stuff," Antonio agreed pleased that Lee knew the drink he tried to describe. "I suppose there is a bit of wood scent too, but I would call it aged not rotten. It kind of reminds me of this big old tree I used to climb at the park nearest our apartment. It must have been three times as large as any of the other trees there and the view from the top was awesome!"

The way Antonio smiled at his memories was all the convincing Lee needed. Screw Colton, Sandburg, Holtz and all of the rest. Lee was bugging out of this messed up mission and he was taking his Sentinel with him. "Holtz told the General I'm a Guide and now _he thinks_ I'm a permanent part of his Sentinel project. _I think_ we've got what we need from this place," he revealed the small memory card that held copies of Sandburg's dissertation and the other research gathered by the medical staff, "and it's time for us to head out on our own. What do you think?"

Antonio grinned with relief, "I think we definitely want to get some lunch then, because I don't like to travel on an empty stomach."

"We'll wait until it is dark before we make our move," explained Lee, "but there's no reason we can't enjoy the best the mess hall has to offer until then."


	5. Evening the score

"A-choo!" Carl accepted the tissue from Chris using it to wipe his eyes and nose. "I don't get it. The Lieutenant takes a sniff and can identify who is a Guide, who is a Sentinel and who got lucky last night. I try to use my nose and all I get is a case of sneezes. What am I doing wrong?"

"It's not so much about right or wrong," Chris explained. "Everyone possesses their own strengths and weaknesses; the same goes for Sentinels. It's just going to take you a little more practice to get your sense of smell under control." When Carl's look remained decidedly disbelieving Chris added, "You aren't the only Sentinel who had trouble with these exercises. They left Vin sneezing for at least a week; hence me grabbing the tissue box when Blair mentioned which sense exercises he wanted to work on."

"Vin?" Carl asked intrigued. "He's the Sentinel on your team, right? The one General Colton threatened to recruit." Chris's patient and easygoing manner as he taught the Sergeant what he needed to know to survive as a Sentinel surprised Carl. Yet a distance remained between them. An invisible barrier put in place by more than their situation. Carl felt like a place holder; a stand in waiting for the real deal to arrive. Carl knew the mysterious Vin remained Chris's real deal as far as Sentinels were concerned. That was cool with Carl, he could respect the team dynamic they had going. He just wasn't sure what it would mean for him when the cavalry arrived and he again found himself guideless. These super charged senses were just starting to get comfortable.

"Yeah, Vin's on my team," confirmed Chris. "He's our sharpshooter. The best eyes I've ever witnessed on any sniper even before he came online." Chris grabbed two water bottles out of his bag and tossed one to Carl. "What about you? What were you doing before your senses started going haywire?"

The Sergeant shrugged. "Serving my country; patrolling with my unit," as he spoke Carl glared at two mercenaries guarding them from some distance away. He did not know what pissed him off more: seeing those rent-a-soldiers marching around all straight and tall, like they weren't aiding and abetting kidnappings, or knowing he blindly walked into his current circumstances. Not once did he give thought to whether General Colton's promise he could, not only regain control of his senses, but become some super sensed warrior, were too good to be true. Pulling his attention back to Chris's question he continued, "An ambush separated me from the rest of my unit. I hid during the day and moved at night. Still it took me several days to make my way back to friendly controlled territory. At first I felt so happy to be safe I didn't care why everybody shouted at me. It took me a while to realize they weren't shouting; I was hearing things."

"The need to survive pushed your senses to a new level," Chris summarized.

"That's what Doctor Millet thought too," confirmed Carl. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end and he rubbed at the uncomfortable sensation. "How much longer to we need to be out here?" he asked.

"Have you got some place better to be?" asked Chris wondering if the sudden mood change came from unpleasant memories brought up by his question.

"Anyplace is better than here," Carl insisted as he eyes searched the horizon. He sensed a threat out there, far more dangerous then Colton's mercenary boys. "We're too exposed. I can't protect you out here."

That got Chris's attention. Despite the way the two soldiers rushed to the rescue during their first meeting there had been no mention of Chris needing protection since then. Chris noted Carl's tense posture. The Sergeant stood on high alert as though waiting for an attack. The pose reminded Chris of an incident with Vin shortly after the sharpshooter's Sentinel abilities manifested. "Would you happen to be feeling a constant static charge racing over your skin?"

"How did you know?" demanded Carl. If Larabee could identify the threat they might be able to come up with a way to counter it. Carl wished he could identify what he sensed. His instincts insisted something big and dangerous lurked nearby. He needed to get his unit somewhere safe and defensible.

Instead of answering Carl's question Chris scanned the horizon. Disappointed he did not immediately see his friend Chris closed his eyes and focused on the small part of his soul that always warmed when Vin neared. "Vin?" Chris whispered. A warm responding pulse calmed him. Opening his eyes he turned to the South positive Vin could see him, even if he could not see his partner.

* * *

><p>Almost half a mile away Vin and Ezra lay prone on the ground, much to Ezra's dismay. Looking through a pair of binoculars surprise overtook Ezra when his team leader turn their way and seemingly look right at them. "Surely Mister Larabee can't see us from this distance."<p>

"He can't," agreed Vin, "but he knows we're here."

Ezra aimed a confused look in Vin's direction. "Would this be one of those 'strange Sentinel/Guide things' Captain Banks kept going on about?" Ezra wondered with a thick drawl. "He warned me situations often took a turn for the bizarre when Jim and Blair were involved."

"I don't see what's so strange about recognizing part of your soul," countered Vin. Internally he reveled in the knowledge his Guide was found and for the moment at least safe.

"Just as long as you aren't going to try rushing in to rescue our compatriot single-handedly again," Ezra muttered. Ezra nearly hadn't been able to stop Vin when the tracker first laid eyes on Chris's battered visage. It took all of Ezra's weight as well as a lot of fast talking to halt the agent's charge. Thankfully his friend was now thinking clearly enough to redden at the reminder of his earlier impetuousness. "How is Detective Ellison doing?" Ezra felt hesitant to allow Blair's Sentinel to go off on his own, but the man insisted they could cover more ground if they separated. He also added that while Vin, being a Sentinel for less than a year, remained vulnerable to spikes and zones, his years of experience would enable him to avoid most such dangers. Remembering Blair's notes indicating the most likely factor to affect the elder Sentinel's senses involved his emotional state Ezra insisted Vin and Jim stay within visual contact of each other. Their abilities allowed them to do so while spread out over considerable ground, yet insured they would know if Ellison did run into a problem.

"He's doing good," assured Vin. "In fact, he is already headed back towards the rally point. It's probably time for us to do the same." Vin began a slow and low retreat through the brush towards the rest of their teammates. Ezra followed suit as best he could all the while mentally calculating how much his cleaner would charge to salvage his now filthy designer clothes.

* * *

><p>Further away from the old base, Jim walked upright; making good time thanks to a rise in the terrain which blocked a line of sight view. It had been an enormous relief to see Blair well and unharmed. Sure there were a few jaw-clinching moments when he identified his Guide working with another Sentinel. Familiar old fears of abandonment and betrayal tried to rise to the surface. But for once he ruthlessly smothered them under some well earned trust in his Guide.<p>

Jim took a risk extending his senses with Blair so far away, so Jim pulled upon all of the tricks Blair taught him over the years to keep his senses tightly controlled. By the time he spotted Blair, Chris and the two soldiers walking near the western perimeter most of the base was already scouted. He knew where the mercenaries bunked and how many there were. Jim also pinpointed where General Colton and at least one of the medical staff, he suspected Dr. Eckhart, were staying. He had been tempted to break cover when he spotted Brackett and a tan young man walking towards the mess hall. The detective instinctively identified Brackett's companion as a Sentinel and Jim could feel his hackles rising just looking at the man. Then he heard Blair's voice carried on the wind and found himself tracking the small party to verify Blair's wellbeing. He winced in sympathy when he noted the livid bruises on Chris's face. Hearing the distant scuffle between Vin and Ezra when the younger Sentinel recognized his injured Guide came as no surprise. Had their situation been reversed; no one would have been able to stop him from going to Blair.

Jim split his focus between his ears and a rough rock held in his hand. Then he extended his hearing towards his partner and friend. A smile played across his lips when he heard Blair encourage the red headed soldier to isolate and identify the wildflowers surrounding them. He continued to listen to the two and learned Blair was working with the Lieutenant Dean Holtz mentioned by Jack. The Lieutenant's strongest sense appeared to be his sense of smell so Blair put the young officer through a series of exercises to teach him control. Some distance away Chris led the Sergeant through similar training with a bit less luck.

Blair suggested they take a break when Holtz surprised both of them by blurting out, "I know a fourth Guide."

After a moment of stunned silence Blair rallied to ask, "Do you mean someone else on base is a Guide?"

"No," Dean shook his head. "My cousin Kathy has the same minty-sandalwood scent as you and your dad. I didn't want to say anything where we might be overheard. Kathy is in her second year of med school at Stanford. The last thing she needs is to get dragged into this." Dean looked down at the ground one shoe kicking the dirt restlessly. "I thought maybe once General Colton has been dealt with . . . Could you explain to her what a Guide does? If I tried to explain it she'd probably end up thinking I was crazy. I've pulled one too many pranks for her to take me seriously."

"Have you talked to her since you were diagnosed?" asked Blair. The anthropologist continued to sort through the implications that only some people could be Guides. Jim often grumbled about how ham-fisted Simon and Megan were when they tried to guide. Yet part of Blair always thought Jim exaggerated; being a Guide primarily involved trust and friendship, and the only thing unique about Blair involved his knowledge of Sentinel lore. It would take time to adjust to the new train of thought.

"Yeah, I visited them right before I reported here," Dean admitted. "She knew about the diagnoses. Hanging out with her seemed to make everything a lot less overwhelming. I didn't really think anything of it at the time. Later when we interrupted Brackett's revenge party, with the three of you in the room it all started to click. Suddenly the missing key to controlling my senses was right there in front of me. I knew you were Guides, though as I implied before Brackett's scent is off. I'd sooner work with a rabid dog than trust him as a Guide. It wasn't until last night when I remembered talking with Kathy that I realized she possessed the same aroma as you guys."

"I'd be happy to talk to Kathy once we're out of this mess," assured Blair, "but I think you're right to keep quiet about her for now. I know I'm going to do everything I can destroy Eckhart's work. No way will they make a Guide detector to draft others, out of my blood."

Listening a thousand yards away in the tall grass Jim made a mental note to arrange for a destructive fire in the base's medical lab during tonight's rescue operation.

"I'd like to try an experiment if you're willing," suggested Blair. "I'm a little curious just how uncommon this Guide scent you seem to be locking onto really is. Are we ten percent of the population, two percent, point zero-zero-zero-one percent? I want you to really focus on the Guide scent. Don't worry about zoning; you have my voice to anchor you. You said Chris, Kathy, even Brackett and I all had some variation of a minty sandalwood aroma. I want you to really key in on that aroma; not the differences but the similarities. Let me know when you've isolated the core scent."

Dean wasn't the only one isolating the mint-sandalwood Guide scent. Jim easily identified what they were talking about. In fact, Jim felt chagrin he never noted the scent before especially with Blair, Chris and Brackett all sharing it. Though in Jim's defense the Lieutenant was right; Brackett's scent could only be described as foul and one of the primary reasons he disliked the man. Jim listened to his Guides directions anticipating what he would say next. He too wondered how many guides passed through his life unnoted.

"I've got the core scent," reported Dean.

"Good," continued Blair. "Now I want you to dive back into your memories. We all pick up the body odors of others, though most of the time it's at a subconscious level. Focus on that scent. Have you noticed it before? Not just here on base or with Kathy. Don't limit yourself to the time since your senses came online. Think only about the scent and let your mind take you to the times, places and people who carried it. Don't rush the process; you get to know a lot of people during a lifetime. Sorting through them might take a while."

Jim quickly formed images in his mind of the people who carried the core Guide scent. Blair and Chris were the first to come to mind, of course. Though he would have preferred to ignore it Brackett belonged there too. Incacha, of course. With a wince Jim realized, Bud Heydash, his long dead mentor also matched. The last image to join the others belonged to a lady he and Blair met on the job about nine months ago and encountered a couple of times since. Tough and dedicated best described Julie Parker; an overworked social worker who often spent sixty hours a week trying to make the best out of the bad situations involving the kids in her case files. Jim definitely needed to talk to Blair when the current crisis ended.

"I think I've got them all," informed Dean after a couple additional moments of concentration. "Outside of the people we've already discussed I could only come up with three others. My childhood best friend, Ryan O'Malley. He died of leukemia when we were fourteen. Cammy Reese used to be a paramedic in San Francisco. She trained me for my lifeguard certification in high school. I don't know if she still lives and works there or not." Then Dean paused hesitant to continue, even taking a furtive look around.

"Is there some reason you don't want to mention the third?" Blair asked quietly.

"It's Dr. Millet, the researcher Sergeant Smith vouched for," Dean confided.

Blair felt torn. Dr. Millet remained the one person besides Dean and Carl who possessed the courage to offer aid to Blair and Chris since the kidnapping. Would the Doctor even want to act as a Guide after seeing the insanity General Colton tried to create? "Sounds like another name we should keep quiet about," decided Blair. "I was more interested in the numbers than the names. In your entire life before your senses came online you only met three people with the identifying Guide scent. Honestly that's not a lot. It makes me wonder if Guides are as uncommon as Sentinels."

'_I always knew you were part of a rare breed,'_ thought Jim with a smile. As much as he wanted to stay and soak up the sound of his Guide's voice Jim knew he needed to head back to the others waiting at the rally point. If he delayed much longer he would not have time to beat their self imposed deadline. The last thing he wanted to deal with was an irate Simon Banks. Taking one last moment to soak in the sight of his partner he vowed, "I'll be back for you soon, Chief." Then all of his attention shifted to focus on sneaking away from the base as stealthily as he earlier approached it. He noted Vin and Ezra also pulling back moments after his retreat.

* * *

><p>Blair suddenly found himself looking around. He recognized the impossibility, but he would have sworn he heard Jim's voice for a second.<p>

"Something wrong, Blair?" asked Dean. He and the sentinel expert were discussing how Dr. Eckhart's decree; insisting Dr. Millet focus on his job as a researcher by interviewing and taking notes, not waste time trying to act out Sandburg's Guide techniques that had already failed for everyone else, most likely saved the researcher from being identified as a Guide. Then Blair's head jerked about as if looking for something.

"Maybe," Chris began as he and Carl approached, "we should ask you the same question. Are you feeling anything off? Maybe the hairs on the back of your neck are standing up."

Dean self consciously slid a hand over the back of his neck, "Yeah, now that you mention it. What is going on?"

Chris met his son's eyes and smiled, "Let's just say you're going to owe someone a Wonderburger soon." Blair did his best to keep his heart rate steady and hide his relief. While it felt good to know he had not imagined the strange feeling of Jim being near, it would not do to tip their hand. Chris turned back to Carl adding, "Like I said before everyone has their own strengths and weaknesses. The Lieutenant may have a better nose but I'm thinking you have the superior radar." Carl responded to the compliment with a toothy grin. Chris glanced towards the patrolling guards. "I really am tempted to engage in a little sabotage to help pave the way for our friends."

Blair recognized Chris's desire to jump into the fight, but he knew there were others on the base tricked into helping Colton's project who needed to be kept out of the cross fire. "I think we should have Dr. Millet, Nurse Linda and maybe some of the other medical staff join us for the evening. We can leave the heavy lifting to others just this once."

Chris felt little surprise at Blair putting the safety of others first, but he could tell something more motivated his son. The former Navy Seal itched to cause a little mayhem, but even he could acknowledge it might be best to lie low and wait for rescue. Still, it burned that he might not get a chance to pay Brackett back for the earlier beating. Then again . . . "How about we head to the mess hall."

First Blair felt relief at Chris's sudden compliance. Then he remembered noting Brackett and Milan entering the mess not long ago. "Please tell me you're not going to pick a fight," pleaded Blair.

"That's the beauty of it," Chris countered. "If I approach this right not only will I get to beat on Brackett, but the General will give me permission to do so. Afterwards we can gather up the others to keep them clear of any potential hostilities."

"How the hell are you going to manage that?" wondered Blair.

"I'll just make it clear to the general it is the ticket to my cooperation," replied Chris. "You know I've led a team of elite undercover agents for a couple of years now. I do understand how to work people to get what I want. I simply prefer going at them head on."

Blair hesitated to go along with Chris's yet to be disclosed plan, but Chris looked too determined to be swayed. If he was not going to be allowed to help with the assault on the base Vin and his team were likely planning even now, then he could at least take a shot at evening the score with Brackett. After all Brackett's attack had not just injured him; it psychologically tormented his son, forcing Blair to comply with the General's plans when he might not have under other circumstances. For that sin Chris really wanted payback.

The four men entered the mess hall and marched directly towards the table where General Colton and Doctor Eckhart were sharing a meal. They ignored the food bar and the dozen or so others in the hall, including Bracket and Milan the latter plowing through a heaping plate like it might disappear. Their determined progress drew the looks of everyone within. Several mercenaries tensed and checked to verify their weapons were ready while Brackett stopped eating to watch them with narrowed eyes. The oversight still amazed Blair; but no one ever came to collect the hand guns they took off the mercenaries during the first confrontation with Brackett in the holding cell. The detective expected the General or one of the mercenaries to order them to surrender the weapons several times. Blair certainly would not have left an opponent armed under these circumstances. But for whatever reason the guns were never mentioned even though Blair, at Chris's insistence, took one of the guns with him every time he left Carl's room, just as Chris was armed since this morning. True, they only had a limited supply of ammunition, but it seemed a rather glaring oversight.

Chris finally stopped a couple of feet from the General's table to stand at attention. The Lieutenant and Sergeant also snapped to attention, leaving Blair to do his best to imitate them. Colton finished chewing his food and wiped his mouth with a napkin before turning to acknowledge the pair of Guides and Sentinels. "Did you wish to speak with me?"

"Yes sir," replied Chris exhibiting more respect with those two words than he managed to muster since their arrival. "I have a question about chain of command now that Mr. Brackett has also been identified as a Guide. Currently he seems to have say in how Blair and I train the Sentinels you have provided, but logically with our greater experience it should be the other way around, at least in regards to Sentinel training. Furthermore," Chris continued crisply, "I believe the earlier . . . unpleasantness, I think you called it, was caused not by Brackett's motivation to see your Sentinel Project succeed, but a desire to prove his superiority over the other Guides in his vicinity. Sentinels aren't the only one who can display territorial issues. Sir, these territorial issues need to be addressed if you don't want us going after each other every time we cross paths."

"What do you have in mind for addressing these issues, Commander Larabee?" asked Colton giving Chris the rank title he earned before retiring from the Navy.

"Talking things out might work under other circumstances, but Brackett created this situation with a physical confrontation and it's going to take another physical confrontation to resolve it," Chris proposed. In theory the military discouraged fighting between its members, but when standard incentives and punishments failed to get squabbling parties to work together efficiently drill instructors occasionally arranged for the opponents to face off during a training session such as hand to hand combat. It allowed the soldiers, sailors or airmen as the case may be to vent their hostilities while giving the instructors a chance to control the setting and make sure the situation did not get out of hand. If Chris could convince Colton a face off would allow everyone to work together, he might grant Chris the opportunity he needed to give Brackett the beating he deserved.

"Are you so convinced the confrontation will end any differently than it did last time?" inquired Colton. A couple of tables away Brackett rose to his feet and even Milan slowed the continuous shoveling of food into his mouth. The mercenaries within ear shot began to murmur excitedly in anticipation of a fight, a couple already calculating the betting odds of who might win.

"I'm sure everyone in that room knows the confrontation would not have gone so well for Brackett if he hadn't ordered others to pin me down and hold me in place," asserted Chris. Blair experienced mild surprise seeing the two mercenaries from the referenced event nod in agreement with Chris's declaration. "The only question in my mind is whether Brackett has the courage to face me without them," Chris goaded.

Brackett recognized the trap being baited. It didn't prevent his face from reddening with anger. If he backed down he would lose the respect of everyone on base. Most of the rabble did not matter to him, but he would not risk the regard he built with Antonio. "Name the time and place Larabee," insisted Lee letting everyone know he was just as eager to fight.

Chris completely ignored Brackett keeping his eyes on General Colton as a well trained officer should. Colton began to see the reactivated SEAL might, after all, be a man he could work with. He and Larabee simply got off on the wrong foot. It wasn't surprising considering their first meeting immediately followed Sandburg's compulsory draft. What father wouldn't be antagonistic after the apparent kidnapping of his only surviving child? Had Brackett been as knowledgeable as he claimed about Sandburg, Colton would have known about the familial relationship and taken a different approach. Glancing at Brackett he conceded with a frown that despite the man's Guide status he might be causing more harm than good to the project. "I may have allowed Mr. Brackett too much latitude it regards to your treatment. If you feel a round of hand to hand will settle the dispute I am willing to accede to you desire. However there will be two conditions: One, there be no attempts to maim or kill each other. I will not have this fight end with a snapped neck," Colton insisted. He new both men possessed hand to hand training including several decidedly lethal moves. "Two, when the fight is over there will be no more petty squabbling. It will be over and done with, understood?"

"Sir, yes sir," replied Chris only the hint of a smile crossing his lips.

General Colton glared at Brackett for a few seconds to pry a sullen, "Understood," from the traitorous spy's lips.

"Excellent," Colton pronounced. "As there is no time like the present, let us depart for the training rooms and be done with it."

Everyone form the mess hall; soldiers, researchers and even the cooks followed the two Guides to the building housing the indoor training facilities. Blair trailed a few paces behind Chris bracketed on either side by Dean and Carl. Antonio followed Lee while shooting dirty looks at the other two Sentinels. As a mob of people converged on the workout room it became apparent any one not on duty was coming to watch the show. The decommissioned base didn't have much in way of exercise equipment; mostly free weights, two treadmills and a stationary bike. Instead of a raised boxing ring, a cleared area with old mats covered the floor. Chris moved to the far corner of the mat and grimaced through some stretches to loosen up his muscles.

Blair took position in Chris's corner with Dean and Carl beside him. Unable to hold his tongue any longer he demanded, "Explain to me how you inviting Brackett to beat on you when you are still recovering from your last encounter is a good thing."

"First, Lee didn't hurt me too badly," Chris tried to reassure his worried son. "His goal required getting you too scared of the consequences to refuse their instructions. Revenge on me was a side benefit, not his main objective. He didn't cause any permanent damage. The bruises may still be sore, but it is not going to stop me from winning this fight. Second, I refuse to tiptoe around the base avoiding that jerk while he parades around like he owns the place. It is past time to take Lee down a notch or two. Doing it this way with the General's approval means we don't have to worry about any backlash landing on you." Across the mats Brackett talked with Antonio, his trademark smirk still in place. Chris couldn't wait to knock it off his face.

Blair rubbed his temples in an attempt to head off the tension headache starting to build. "But are you sure you can beat him?" he asked. "It's not that I doubt you or your abilities, but come on Dad, not only is he a trained spy, but he is one who will us every dirty underhanded trick he can think of to win. He cheats!" Blair announced loud enough for many of the mercenaries crowding into the room to hear. "Cheating the rules is how he got to where he is today."

Chris set his hands on Blair's shoulders. He understood why Blair was freak out. His son had done a valiant job of maintaining his cool despite the threats and violence of the last forty-eight hours. Blair made his father's safety his personal responsibility since they were taken captive. There was only so long he could hold up under the constant pressure before something gave. "Blair," Chris entreated with a steady voice, "I need you to calm down and listen to me. I know you are worried, but this is the sort of situation I train for on a regular basis. And don't forget who it is I train with: a fourth degree Jujutsu black belt, another former SEAL with a fondness for knife fights and explosives, three highly trained federal agents, and the sneakiest, craftiest, most underhanded undercover agent in the country. Brackett wishes he could connive half as well as Ezra on a bad day." When the last comment won him a small grin he continued, "I wouldn't have pushed for this fight if I wasn't fairly certain I could win. So try to relax and let me handle things for a bit."

"For God's sake," cursed Brackett. "Does little Blair need to hold someone's hand during the fight? Let's get started already!" It seemed Brackett like to start his fights with as much belligerence as possible.

Blair shook his head and wondered why he bothered to protect Brackett from his father's wrath. "Make sure you break his nose," he instructed. "It will crush Lee's vanity. A broken jaw so we don't have to listen to his snide remarks would be nice too," the detective decided.

"Now that will be my pleasure," assured Chris before he turned to step into the center of the mats.

Brackett took a step towards Chris but halted upon hearing General Colton's raised voice, "Remember, gentlemen, there will be no killing and no maiming. The fight will go until one opponent yields or is unconscious. When the fight is over I expect any disagreements to be over as well." Colton met the eyes of each contestant, waiting until he received their agreement before he finished with, "Begin!"

Brackett barely allowed the General time to step back out of the way before he launched a roundhouse punch at Chris's head. Chris easily danced back out of reach, his fighting stance surprisingly similar to the boxing stance Sweet Roy Williams taught Blair so long ago. The resemblance to boxing ended there. As fast as he retreated from Brackett's attack, Chris darted forward to land a glancing blow to his right ear. Brackett retaliated with swipe to the temple that Chris managed to block. Brackett's next maneuver consisted of a wide sweeping kick which Chris countered by moving in close to the spy with a block to bleed away the kick's power and leave him off balance. Chris took advantage with an elbow to Lee's head, which knocked him to his knees.

Brackett narrowly avoided Chris's follow up kick by rolling aside. The former spy managed to quickly regain his feet, but already many could see Chris was the more skilled fighter. The retired SEAL landed more damaging blows, while Brackett struggled just to keep up. Out gunned, Lee decided to change tactics. He should not be tiring only thirty seconds in. His only chance to win lay in a swift decisive attack to end the fight. Lee wiped at the blood dripping from nose down his mouth and chin.

"Looks like someone might have a broken nose," taunted Chris. "What do you say Lee? Are you ready to yield and admit who the better Guide is?"

"Don't listen to him Lee," encouraged Antonio. "He's just some cowboy relic trying to save the day."

Brackett didn't reply to either man. Instead he launched himself at Larabee hoping to catch his opponent by surprise. Chris refused to so easily be taken off guard and a vicious string of strikes and counter strikes were exchanged between the two. A jab to the gut, a swipe at the head, a hit to shoulder and a smack to another ear; each punch came lightening fast. Lee retreated from Chris's onslaught in desperation, but the agent followed him relentlessly. It only took one misstep on Brackett's part to decide the fight. Chris saw his enemy off balance. He grabbed Brackett's hair with his left hand; hit him hard in the jaw with his right and then used both hands to slam Lee's head down into his upward swinging knee.

A rowdy cheer went up as the blonde spy pooled to the floor unconscious. Chris shook his aching hands as the crowd closed in to congratulate the victor. It was a sweet sight to see Brackett dragged away by Antonio and a couple of the mercenaries. An internal review noted Lee managed to reopen Chris's split lip as well as aggravate his sore ribs. His right hand in particular throbbed from the bare knuckle fight.

"Can I assume," asked the General as he approached, "you are satisfied with your outcome?"

"I don't think anything else could have put me in a better frame of mind to meet the coming challenges," Chris replied with a wicked grin. General Colton walked away pleasantly reassured he had won over Larabee to his way of thinking. He never realized Chris was thinking about taking down the General and his little mercenary army, not helping Colton's Sentinel Project when he spoke. General Colton would figure it out soon enough. Chris's smile grew as he imagined the look on the General's face when his team stormed the base. The next twelve hours should be a lot of fun.


	6. Creating a new system

Author's note: Thank you to everyone who has followed and favorited this story. I appreciated every PM and review.

* * *

><p>By the time Jim, Vin and Ezra made it back to the group's rally point the rest of Team Seven had arrived along with AFT's Team Eight. Blair had described working with the five person team during the incident at the MARS compound, but this was Jim's first time meeting the agents. Though he would have preferred to better know his new back up, the numbers they were going up against were too big for them to turn down help from any corner. This explained why after considerable debate Jim and Vin agreed to call in the hostage retrieval unit waiting in Cheyenne.<p>

The unit's leader, Commander Lach, was a practical man with no interest in a turf war. He listen intently while the detectives and ATF agents planned their attack based on the details Jim and Vin's scouting provided. He offered some recent satellite images and made one or two suggestions but left the final decisions up to Jim and Vin. His one request; for General Colton be turned over to them for court-martial. Jim offered to do them one better by assigning them the job of apprehending Colton. Though part of Jim wanted to rush straight to Blair, he tasked himself and his fellow detectives with the job of eliminating any records or samples stored in the medical lab. Buck insisted he wanted to capture Brackett. Jim remembered Buck had been injured and a friend of his died on the mission Brackett worked with Larabee's SEAL team. Once he confirmed Buck would be backed up by Josiah, Nathan and JD he conceded the mustached man's prior claim. Ryan Kelly's Team Eight received the pivotal duty of capturing the barracks where most of the mercenaries would be sleeping. If they could secure the barracks before an alarm sounded, they might be able to avoid a prolonged gunfight.

That left Vin and Ezra to find and secure Blair and Chris. Jim had a long discussion with Vin about controlling his instinctual impulses. They knew their Guides were spending time with the army Sentinels. Chris's bruises were a fair indication they hadn't been given a choice. Yet there appeared to be at least some trust when they witnessed them working together. Vin needed to wait for Chris or Blair to give their assessment before passing judgment on Holtz and Smith. Ezra would hopefully be able to act as a buffer, but they wouldn't know for sure until the Sentinels came face to face.

There should have been a lot more tension between the ATF agents, the police detectives and the 'hostage retrieval unit'. Jim noted the lack of unit markings, surnames and military branches on their uniforms and would have bet the loft they were Delta Force. It was seldom easy to integrate federal agents with local law enforcement. Throwing military into the mix almost seemed like tempting fate. In this case the feds and detectives were united by their determination to see Blair and Chris freed; so determined they were willing to risk involving outsiders. Commander Lach acknowledged their right to have suspicions, given their friends were kidnapped by someone from the military, but swore before the night was through his team would earn their trust.

Once the sun went down the three allied groups headed towards the base, using night vision goggles to move quickly in the dark. The fence line became a minor obstacle dealt with by wire clippers, thanks to General Colton's failure to have the fence electrified. Once on the base Kelly's team and Lach's men took down two patrols in simultaneous silence. Rafe and Henry got the third patrol seconds later. Buck and Josiah approached the main gate with surprising stealth for their size. JD and Nathan cut both the phone land line and the base's public address system, and then set up jamming devices to scramble cell phone signals.

Jim watched as the assault force spread throughout the base. Kelly's team surrounded the mercenary barracks. Lach's unit moved towards the house Jim earlier identified as General Colton's. Buck lead most of Team Seven towards Brackett's billet while Vin and Ezra moved towards the building which held their Guides. It wasn't easy to ignore the hushed murmur of Blair's voice, but he wanted to be able to tell Blair all of Colton's plans and Eckhart's research was destroyed when he next saw his guide. "Soon Chief," Jim promised, before heading towards the doors of the medical lab.

* * *

><p>Linda Johnson, the petite redheaded army nurse, once again cared for Chris's wounds. His injuries were minor compared to the last time; bruised and scraped knuckles coupled with further irritation of the previous damage. Chris's easy smile indicated the recent victory more than compensated for the slight pain. A crowd filled Sergeant Smith's room. Nurse Johnson and Doctor Brandon Millet chose to accept Blair's invitation to join them in Carl's quarters. Add Carl, Dean, Chris and Blair to the mix and the small room became a tight fit.<p>

It took a while to pull Chris away from his new fans among the Defiant mercenaries many of whom continued to rehash their favorite moves from the fight. (Apparently everyone really did love a winner.) Once the six were secluded in Carl's room, Blair shut the door and led Dean through a sensory sweep to verify they were not under surveillance beyond the occasional passing patrol. It took the new Sentinel a couple tries before he could wield his senses with enough control to satisfy Blair.

"So why do I get the feeling something big is about to happen?" asked Doctor Millet.

"You have good instincts, Doctor Millet," Chris complimented the researcher.

"Please," Millet insisted, "I prefer Brandon."

"Brandon," Blair began, "we invited you here because we are fairly certain someone will be coming to apprehend General Colton and his conspirators soon. We wanted to get as many civilians out of the line of fire as possible. Do you know were the other doctors and nurse are right now?"

Brandon's eyebrows rose to mid forehead. "Um, Dr. Goard and Dr. Reynolds are still in the medical laboratory. Eckhart ordered them to stay there until they completed the initial tests on your blood work. When I dropped off their dinner after the fight, Reynolds said they were still looking at seven more hours of work ahead of them. I think Dr. Carter is working on the psychological profiles Eckhart requested on Lieutenant Holtz and Sergeant Smith. He usually takes his work home in the evenings. I have no idea where Meredith is," finished the researcher.

"Meredith isn't on base right now," Linda volunteered. "She's got a thing going with one of the Defiant soldiers. She said he promised to sneak her out on his supply run tonight so they could have a romantic evening in Cheyenne." Linda tried to discourage Meredith after they learned people were being threatened and forced into working on the top secret project. Meredith insisted the danger made their encounters more exciting and went anyway.

"Meredith is probably safer off the base," Blair assessed. "I don't think there is much we can do about Goard and Reynolds if Eckhart is looking over their shoulders. Is the house Carter is staying in near the Defiant barracks?"

"No," answered Brandon. "He picked one of the old tract houses on the far side of the medical lab, like we did."

Blair took a moment to consider his mental map of the base. "Sounds like he would be just as safe there as he would be here," he decided. "So tell me, Brandon, how did you first get involved in Sentinel research?" Blair ignored the curious look from Chris. The way Blair figured it, Dean Holtz already formed a tentative bond with a potential Guide in the form of his cousin, Kathy. Carl would soon need a Guide too. Blair remembered Millet being the only member of the medical staff Carl would vouch for. If they could build that trust and both were willing they had the potential to become an excellent Sentinel/Guide team. Blair just needed to figure out how to explain to Brandon he possessed Guide potential. Blair only ever told one other person he suspected them of being a Guide; his father. Chris knew Vin for years before Blair arrived with his numerous surprises. An enduring faith in each other helped ease the transition from friends and coworkers to Sentinel/Guide partners. Blair wanted to know a little more about Brandon's story before he sprung the revelation on the researcher.

"Actually my Aunt Eva was a Sentinel," Brandon explained. "Not that we knew growing up. She hated visiting cities or even towns; said they gave her headaches. She lived in a small cabin in the Wisconsin wilderness where the nearest population stalled at about seven hundred souls. Eva was smart, funny and happiest when she helped others. She constantly rehabilitated sick or injured animals. The local rangers knew to call her if hikers went missing or someone's child wandered off. Eva also had a lot of problems. In addition to migraines she experienced what she referred to as spells; where she would slip into a catatonic state. I believe you called them zones. My Dad once talked about another sister of theirs, Rachael, who passed away when they were teenagers. He believed Rachael's death broke something vital in Eva; the grief seemed to drive her mad for a bit. I know my grandparents institutionalized her for several years, but she only seemed to worsen. Eventually Dad convinced them to have her released and helped her set up her little place in the woods. It seemed to be the only place she could find any peace; at least until she passed twelve years ago. Looking back with the information I know now, I have wondered if Dad and Eva's sister might have also been Eva's guide, but I doubt I'll ever know for sure."

"When Berkshire Publishing and Rainer started releasing bits of your dissertation to the press, I recognized immediately the same condition Eva struggled with," Brandon continued. The researcher's story drew everyone's attention, but Carl's focus became so intent he claimed the seat beside Brandon and ignored the rest of the room. "When you denounced your work as fraudulent I couldn't believe it. The descriptions too closely matched Dad's stories about Eva; it fit too perfectly my own experiences spending time in her company. When I looked closer at the situation, I noticed more than a few legal and ethical violations. I considered contacting you, but then I heard the news about you attending the police academy. It felt like an intrusion, or maybe disrespect to pester you about what must have been a painful choice. Initially, I thought maybe I could right a wrong by proving the Sentinel condition existed with a mountain of unassailable data. Unfortunately, none of the universities I contacted were willing to risk repeating Rainer's mistake or more likely suffer their bad press. I almost gave up when the Army contacted me about a job offer. I've been collecting data on Unified Heightened Sensory Onset for almost a year now."

Brandon paused to take a deep breath before finishing. "I swear to you Blair, I did not know Colton would resort to kidnapping to get his project working. I believed him when he said, the Army wanted to move the Sentinel Project to the next level."

"Relax man," Carl reassured before Blair could answer. "Colton fooled a lot people for things to go this far. None of us thinks you're part of his crazy plan."

Blair smiled as Carl repeated his defense of the research doctor. Encouraging the earnest researcher and the intense Sergeant to partner up, increasingly felt like the right decision. It would probably be best if Carl's Guide situation could at least be addressed before their rescue arrived. "Carl's right," agreed Blair. "I have no doubt you headed into this situation with the best of hopes and intentions. I also haven't forgotten when Eckhart started threatening the civilian staff, you responded by offering to aid us in secret. That sort of courage is a rare thing."

Brandon shrugged in embarrassment of the praise. "I couldn't do any less for you, than I would have done for Aunt Eva or Rachel in the same situation."

Blair almost told Brandon about his Guide potential, but decided he also needed to know the Nurse Linda Johnson's intentions. She acted friendly enough. Linda jumped forward to help both times Chris was injured, but could they really trust her? Blair could not discuss Brandon's Guide status without being certain. The detective glance to his left and received a nod from Dean. Before Brandon and Linda arrived Blair gave the lieutenant a crash course in listening for the changes in heart rate and respirations which denote dishonesty. He also explained several key micro-expressions indicative of deception. He would have preferred having a couple of weeks to teach both soldiers the entire Facial Action Coding System, but time was not on their side.

Knowing his cousin Kathy possessed Guide potential calmed Dean in some indefinable way. His actions focused on protecting the Guides currently in his care, taking down General Colton's Sentinel Project before it could draft any more Guides, and finding Kathy at Stanford to explain what Unified Heightened Sensory Onset might mean for both of them.

Carl's mental state remained a bit more anxious. He wanted to stop General Colton. The man's Sentinel Project amounted to little more than slavery. It needed to be eliminated. Yet he knew once it was gone Blair would go back to his detective partner, Chris would rejoin his team and his sniper/sentinel and Carl would be on his own. Until they arrived it took all of his concentration to get through each day. The spikes and rashes were painful to the point of maddening. Losing time to the zones created a new kind of terrifying; not that he had ever admitted it to the psychologist they insisted he see. In two days, Blair and Chris somehow eliminated almost all of the spikes and zones while teaching him to do a few fairly impressive tasks with his heightened senses; insisting soon he would be able to do even more. He now realized he could do a lot of good as a Sentinel as long as he didn't try to do it alone; the irony being once General Colton was stopped; alone was exactly where Carl would be. Life sucked sometimes.

"Linda, I don't want to be rude or accuse you of anything but, given the situation, I think it's fair to ask what you think about General Colton's plans for Sentinels and Guides. Do you believe they should be drafted into the military?" Blair asked.

"No!" Linda rushed to assure. "I mean it would be one thing if Congress and the President ordered the Selective Service to initiate the draft for everyone, but as long as our military remains voluntary what Colton wants to do makes no sense." Linda started to repack the medical supplies she brought to tend Chris's newest injuries. "I realize I didn't speak up to say what they were doing was wrong; despite my choice of profession as an army nurse I'm not good at confrontation. I have done my best to follow medical and military ethics guidelines, despite the circumstances, though I realize it may not seem like much." Linda looked truly apologetic to Blair; still it did not hurt to get Dean's confirming nod.

"I'm glad to hear that, Linda," said Blair. "Because we are running out of time and I need to discuss some privileged information with Brandon. It's essential for us to know we can rely on your discretion."

"I won't say anything to anyone," Linda promised earnestly looking from Blair to Brandon.

"I don't understand what you mean about running out of time," spoke Brandon. "Isn't the approaching arrival of the authorities a good thing?"

"Very good," Blair assured, "but it's also complicated by the presence of our Sentinels. They are not likely to be happy about our kidnapping, nor will they take well to the appearance of others staking a claim on us. I think everything will go a lot smoother if Jim and Vin know Dean and Carl have other Guides to work with."

"Wait," demanded Brandon, "There are other Guides? You know who they are?"

Blair looked to Dean allowing the Lieutenant to decide how much to reveal. "You heard about my ability to identify Guide scent this morning. Well it let me know who my Guide most likely is. As the person in question isn't part of the military and I would rather not say more until I know the Army is going to replace Colton's Sentinel Project with something better."

Brandon nodded in understanding, then turned to Carl and asked, "Do you know who your Guide is?"

Rubbing the back of his neck in distraction it took a second for the Sergeant to answer, "I guess you could say I'm the odd man out." Frustration colored his tone, but he made a conscious effort to push it aside. "Sorry. I think your friends are getting close now. It feels like they're nearing the perimeter, maybe a few minutes from the fence."

"No problem Carl," Blair soothed. "You might not be the odd man out you assume. Dean did identify one Guide on base we haven't mentioned yet." Carl's eyes snapped to Blair's in surprise. Blair smiled reassuringly and then turned to ask Brandon, "Would you be interested in learning about a Sentinel from a Guide's perspective, instead of the perspective of a researcher?"

Brandon's face contained a mixture of confusion and awe. "You think I'm a Guide? Are you serious? Of course you're serious," he answered his own question. "You really think I could be a Guide?"

Blair didn't need to be a Sentinel to read the excitement flowing off Brandon in waves. He also thought he saw a flash of hope flicker across Carl's face. "Dean confirmed you have the right base scent. I think it means you, at least, possess the potential to become a Guide. The real question is do you want to pursue your potential?"

"Yes, of course I want to be a Guide," Brandon eagerly replied. "What do I have to do?"

Blair grinned remembering the early days with Jim when he jumped at every chance to see his Sentinel work his senses. "First I would like to clarify a few things," Blair insisted. "Despite what some of the people here may have implied Sentinels and Guides are not interchangeable. Sure Chris and I have been able to help Dean and Carl get their senses under better control but that reflects our knowledge and experience. We haven't done anything with them they won't be able to do on their own with a couple more weeks of practice. For Sentinels to function at a truly exceptional level where they are able to make record breaking shots without a scope, or pick one conversation out of a hundred across a crowded restaurant, requires Guides they trust implicitly. Extending senses to such extremes puts a Sentinel at physical and mental risk. They are not going take such risks if they don't trust their Guide to catch then before they fall into a zone or help them counter the worst side effects of a spike." Blair turned to face the mahogany skinned Sergeant. "Carl, you have to make a choice here too. Chris and I are already partnered up with our Sentinels. Dean has a good idea who he wants as a Guide. Like you said before, you're the odd man out. Are you willing to work with Brandon and see if the two of you can build a partnership?"

"Yeah, I'd like that," Carl replied. "If it's okay with you?" he asked Brandon still off balance by his sudden change in fortune.

"Totally okay," Brandon assured, "I mean I'll do my best to learn how to be a good Guide. I really want to help you with this." Brandon still held concerns about General Colton and Brackett. His status as a civilian researcher versus Carl's position in the army might also cause complications, especially once the current unsanctioned project got shut down. Yet those worries were overwhelmed by the thrill of possibly achieving a long held dream; which began as a desire to help his aunt Rachael and later transformed into helping others like her. Since the first time the researcher read reference to Guides he wished he could be one. Facing the opportunity to forge his dream into reality galvanized Brandon. "Where do we start?"

"At the beginning," announced Chris. The ATF agent's minor scraps were mended, thanks to Linda. Once Blair finished setting the potential Sentinel – Guide team up his father stepped forward. As Chris spent the most time working with Carl he retained a better understanding of what Carl needed from his Guide. Not that he expected too many problems. Both men clearly wanted to make the partnership work, which gave them a significant advantage.

"Okay, so Carl is a Sentinel which means all five of his senses are heightened, but even among Sentinels there is going to be considerable variation. For example Carl's strongest sense is his sense of touch. Now forget about using dials as a visualization control; the Sergeant prefers imagining a game controller like you might use with Xbox," Chris explained.

"Actually, it makes a lot of sense for him to visualize a game controller if touch is his strongest sense," mused Brandon. "Some of my friends have engaged in entire discussions about the importance of finding a controller with the proper fit to your hand and the right feel. It is a very tactile control device." Blair smiled at Brandon's insight as well as the way Carl took in researcher's theory, seemingly turning it over in his mind and then accepting it as valid.

"I've got more details here in this notebook," continued Chris, "but in my experience the best way to learn is by doing. Let's see you try to lead Carl through a sensory sweep of the area. It is a simple yet effective way to calibrate your Sentinel's senses."

"Me-ee?" Brandon stammered a bit, "Now?" Blair watched the researcher hesitate, for the first time overwhelmed. Chris seemed to enjoy throwing others into the deep end, to see if they would sink or swim. Yet Blair felt surprisingly confident Brandon would pass his father's impromptu test. "Right," Brandon started over. A deep breath refocused his thoughts. "Let's start by visualizing your controller. I want you to describe it, explaining what each button and toggle signifies to you."

Chris handed Blair, Linda and Dean each a cold can of soda. Then he leaned back and watched as a potential became a Guide. Brandon asked a lot of questions even as he encouraged Carl to steadily stretch his senses. The misunderstandings and glitches in their first joint effort were minor and quickly corrected. Chris nudged Blair's shoulder and whispered, "He's already extended his hearing twice as far as I could get him to with no signs of a headache." Ample evidence to indicate Brandon was a better fitting Guide for Carl. Blair hoped Dean and his cousin Kathy would mesh as well.

"Your Sentinel's are within the fence line," Carl murmured. "They have several groups of people with them. All three patrols have already been taken down." At Linda's shocked gasp he amended, "non-lethally. None of them are moving. I would guess at least four of the six are unconscious. A group of four is taking the main gate. Someone using the codename Buck is in charge."

Chris chuckled, "Believe it or not that's his real name."

Carl accepted the information with a nod and continued. "A second group of four is heading towards the house the General is occupying. A group of five has surrounded and secured the Defiant barracks. One Sentinel is coming this way with another person," Carl paused to listen. "Vin says he's got a case of Michelob in a cooler for you once things are wrapped up here."

Chris laughed again. "Best thing I've heard in days," he decreed.

Carl grinned genuinely happy his new allies would soon be reunited with their friends and teammates. Then a frown replaced his smile.

"Is something wrong?" Brandon immediately picked up on his Sentinel's change of mood.

"I'm not sure," Carl admitted. "It feels like something is missing, but I don't know what." After another moment of consternation he pushed aside the elusive riddle and continued to report. "The last group of four includes the other Sentinel," the Sergeant relayed. "They are headed towards the medical labs."

* * *

><p>Jim led the way to the old medical building, now Eckhart's personal Frankenstein laboratory. He stopped just to the left of a side entrance, Simon a second behind him. Rafe and Henry joined them after a quick moment. With all three patrols dealt with, only a minimal chance of being seen existed, yet the detectives remained cautious. It only took one person to sound an alarm. Jim chose this entrance because one of the mercenaries propped it open earlier for a cigarette break and never properly closed it when he was done. Jim leaned in to hear the sounds from within and test the odors leaking out the cracked exit.<p>

A click in Jim's ear gave him just enough warning to turn down his hearing before a voice echoed through his receiver. "Kelly here, we've got the barracks. Everyone inside has surrendered." A bit of tension eased in the detectives knowing the majority of the mercenaries were out of the fight. "I've got a head count of thirty. If we add in the patrols we captured and the guards at the main gate we have still got three mercenaries unaccounted for."

"This is Buck at the gate. Our three are subdued and I've got a log entry noting one man taking a truck to Cheyenne for supplies about two hours ago. So it's only two unaccounted," the mustached agent corrected.

"We've got eyes on General Colton," Commander Lach shared. "He is alone using a satellite uplink to talk with what sounds like an unknown backer. We're waiting to get a trace before we move in."

"Understood," Jim whispered. The last thing he wanted was to shut down this operation just to have another pop up in a couple of months. He dealt with enough such situations during his time in Vice. Better for them to identify all of the players and deal with them now. "I'm pretty sure the missing mercenaries are in the lab, unless the doctors have started wearing gun oil as cologne. We're moving in." A corner of Jim's mind noted no one reported subduing or even seeing Brackett. He knew Buck would be heading to Brackett's quarters and those of the unidentified Sentinel next. He wouldn't feel truly safe until the treasonous former spy was once again locked in his cage.

Jim silently opened the door and secured the hallway while the others followed him in. Taking over a hostile building might not be their specialty but the detectives participated in enough raids to be capable at the job. Jim's hearing quickly picked up conversation in the far laboratory. He remained cautious checking each room and closet as they proceeded until it became clear only one room in the building was occupied.

"Larabee and Sandburg share a large number of genes because of their familial relationship," stated a voice from inside the lab. "So I want you to disregard any that aren't also shared by Brackett. Once we have identified which genes all three men share we will have a better idea of which gene sequences identify a Guide."

After listening, not only to the blowhard in charge (Jim guessed the infamous Dr. Eckhart) but also to all of the other tell tale whispers, shifts and shuffles from the people within, he risked a quick glance into the room though the small window in the door. The look confirmed what he heard. Three scientist types; two of them hard at work while the third lectured them on how best to do their job and two mercenaries standing in opposing corners of the lab appearing torn between bored silly and pissed off with their duty assignment.

Jim turned back to his fellow Major Crimes detectives he sketched out a quick imaginary drawing of the lab layout on the floor pointing out the guards in the corners. Once certain the others understood he began a silent left-handed count down.

Simon shoved the door open allowing Jim to power through taking stead aim at the mercenary across the room. "Drop your weapons now!" he ordered. His words were echoed by Henry who focused his attention on the other guard.

"Hands up and away from the keyboards, gentlemen," Rafe instructed. "Please don't try to use your cell phones," he directed at Eckhart. Rafe knew Buck's team where going to jam the cell signals in the area, but he wasn't willing to leave anything to chance.

The mercenaries were quickly disarmed. Both men assuming they would have nothing more difficult than a whinny lab scientist or two to deal with, were unprepared for sudden attack. Neither thought the job worth their life so they immediately surrendered.

"I recognize you," Dr. Eckhart declared even while Rafe relieved him of his smart phone and searched the rest of him. "You used to be Doctor Sandburg's Sentinel Ellison. I regret to inform you; your former partner accepted a better offer. Now he can have as many Sentinels as he wants to work with and doesn't have to tag along in your silly little game of cops and robbers."

Jim finished shackling his mercenary before turning to Eckhart with a smile on his face. "You're going to have to do better than that to shake my faith in Blair. He gave up too much for me to ever doubt him again."

Eckhart scowled when Ellison easily brushed aside his psychological attack. Determined to shake the man's calm he threatened, "Do you think arresting us means anything? Important people want me to finish my work. I'll be released soon enough and all you will have done is made a powerful enemy."

"I guess it's a good thing I have a lot of allies then," rebutted Jim refusing to rise to the doctor's bait. He watched in satisfaction as Rafe slipped metal bracelets around Eckhart's wrists.

"Powerful enemy, my butt," declared Simon. "The military is so eager to shut you down, they loaned us a Delta Force unit to help clean up this mess." Stepping into Eckhart personal space he insisted, "I don't think you or your work is as valuable to others as you seem to think."

Jim saw a small flicker doubt dance through Eckhart's eyes before they hardened again. "Time will tell."

"Excuse me Doctors," Rafe slid up to the computer terminal and plugged in the hard drive JD provided. It took just a couple clicks of the mouse to unleash JD's Harvester program. At the same time Henry emptied the refrigerator of all of the blood samples collected. With the refrigerator empty he tossed the vials into a large trash can making sure every sample shattered on impact.

"What are you doing?" shouted Eckhart for the first time fighting those around him. "No. No!"

"Who me?" ask Henry a bit too gleefully. "I'm just destroying this illegally obtained biological material." Henry opened a large container of bleach and began to poor it into the trashcan to mix with the leaking blood. Then he grabbed a tool off the counter and began stirring it for good measure. The bleach would only need seconds to destroy the blood samples, rendering them useless to further testing.

Once JD's program indicated to Rafe it had retrieved the data and delivered its virus Rafe disconnected the device and give it to Jim. Then he pulled the hard drive free, set it on the floor and vigorously applied his sledgehammer until the platters were shattered into thousands of bits. Turning the doctors Eckhart earlier hovered over he asked, "Where are the data back ups and anything else regarding this project?"

The doctors looked from Eckhart to each other. One dropped his head choosing silence. The older doctor took a breath and pointed towards a cabinet bolted to the wall. "Eckhart keeps a backup hard drive there with most of his printed results. But I'm pretty sure he also took some of the data home with him."

"Thank you, Doctor?"

"Doctor Michael Reynolds," the graying gentleman introduced. "My specialty is genetic sequencing. I never imagined people were being threatened or forced to participate." After a moment Reynolds suggested, "Eckhart often use the copy machine in his office next door. You probably want to destroy that hard drive too."

"Why are you helping them; because a few ethical boundaries were blurred? The gathering of knowledge is far more important than vacillating morals of small minds," dismissed Eckhart.

"Well, I hope those thoughts give you comfort in whatever cell the military puts you in," countered Jim joining Rafe and Henry in the systematic destruction of everything Sentinel or Guide related, while Simon guarded the prisoners.

* * *

><p>Chris stepped out into the hall with a welcoming grin on his face.<p>

"Good to see you up close, Cowboy," Vin grasped tight to Chris's forearm and pulled him in for an embrace. "Most of the hostiles have been captured or neutralized," Vin reported removing his radio ear piece and giving it to Chris to listen with. "Buck is moving in to round up Bracket and his Sentinel. So I figured we'd wait here until we got the all clear."

"Sounds like a plan," agreed Chris. Through the ear piece he heard police Captain Simon Banks report finding another computer back up in Dr. Eckhart's residence. A strange voice that identified himself as Lach mentioned finding Doctor Carter and collecting his work.

"You look a bit worse for the wear," Ezra appraised with an intense stare. "I trust the damage is mostly cosmetic?"

Chris smirked at his undercover agent's round about way of asking if he was okay. "Nothing that won't fade in a week or so," he confirmed. "Are you boys ready to meet the newest enlistees in the wonderful world of Sentinels and Guides?"

"I've been waiting to meet Teacher's new students," insisted Vin in an even tone. Chris and Ezra booth heard a hint of menace carried in the words.

"Play nice and keep the growling to a minimum. There is no need to scare the raw recruits," Chris rebuked only half in jest.

Vin met Chris's stare for a moment and dropped his eyes conceding, "If that's the way you want it."

Ezra watched with renewed amazement at how easily Chris handled Vin's sometimes wild nature. The left side of Ezra's ribcage still ached from when he tackled Vin to halt the tracker's ill conceived plan to charge the base on his own. "May I say, Mister Larabee, how happy I am you are well enough to relieve me of my recent position as substitute Guide?"

When Chris looked to Vin with a raised brow the tracker explained, "He ain't you but he's got a light touch and his voice never gives me headaches. I figured he'd do in a pinch."

"Really?" Chris's eyes locked on Ezra in a considering fashion. Then he grabbed the con man by the shoulder and pulled him into Carl's ever more crowded room. "Dean, what does my friend Ezra smell like to you?"

Ezra stared at Chris like he had grown a second head before demanding, "What precisely are you implying, Mister Larabee?"

Chris ignored him to wait on Dean's answer. Dean deeply inhaled the new scents rushing past him on the air currents twisting through the room. It was easy to separate Vin's Sentinel scent from Ezra's. Focusing to supply Chris's request he replied, "It's very close to Guide scent."

"Guide what?" asked Ezra.

"He has the minty aroma but the wood scent is different; more cedar than sandalwood," Dean continued. "It's just not quite right somehow; though I would pick him over Brackett if given a choice."

"I am so writing a paper on Guide scent," declared Blair. "I don't care if no one outside this room reads it. I need to document this stuff."

"I'd love to see anything you have written," said Brandon. "If there's anything I can do to help."

Before Blair could reply Chris silenced the group with a curt, "Quiet!" Chris pressed Vin's ear piece close to hear his other team mates speak. "Something is missing," he murmured and turned to Carl. "Not something; some one. Two some ones are missing; Brackett and Milan. They can't be found anywhere on base. Could they be the something missing you sensed earlier?"

Chris's suggestion made perfect sense to Carl. Despite not knowing what was absent there had also been a feeling of relief. "I think so."

"Can you recall the last time you noticed either man's presence?" asked Brandon grasping his Sentinel's shoulder.

Carl searched through his memories until he found the most recent moment he experienced the irritating prickle that screamed Antonio. "About two hours ago, heading in that direction at a good clip," Carl pointed northwest towards Cheyenne.

Vin frowned. "That matches with records of one of the mercenaries taking a truck into Cheyenne for supplies. If Brackett and his boy Sentinel were on that truck . . ."

"They could be anywhere by now," Chris finished.

"Brackett got away?" Blair couldn't help the weary tone slipping into his voice. With Lee and Antonio on the loose there was no telling when the ex-spy would try to manipulate them again. He hated the idea of them looking over their shoulders waiting for a sociopath to strike. "Next time I'm going to aim for his head," Blair promised with ice cold determination. The naïve pacifist Naomi raised felt like a different person.

"If I see him first you won't have to," promised a voice from the doorway.

"Jim!" Blair rushed to his friend's arms. "I am so glad to see you man."

"Likewise," Jim assured. "What were you thinking; getting kidnapped without me?"

"Well how about the next time someone asks for kidnapees, I point them in your direction," Blair offered in jest.

"Or we could both stop getting kidnapped," countered Jim just slightly more serious.

"Oh please," sighed Simon from the hall. "Like that will ever happen." The police Captain ordered Henry, "Get a BOLO out on Brackett and his partner. Maybe we can get lucky before he gets too far." Blair appreciated Simon's efforts, but his gut told him Brackett was far out of their reach, at least for now.

* * *

><p>"So where exactly are we?" Brackett mumbled through his aching jaw. He knew his young Sentinel found a way to get them off base and away from General Colton's reach. However the concussion Larabee gave him made most of the night a jumble of confusing images. Antonio's steady presence became the only certain thing through the evening.<p>

"We're heading east on Interstate-Eighty almost to North Platte. It looks like we'll drive through Omaha and Des Moines before we hit Chicago. I figured Chicago would be a big enough city for us to get lost in until you recover," Antonio explained. The nineteen year old kept the stolen Ford Focus cruising at just five over the speed limit. He carefully picked a car without any of the fancy and ever more prevalent tracking software. The newly acquired vehicle's common make and popular grey color also helped them to blend in to the crowd.

"How did we get off the base again?" wondered Lee. His head pounded mercilessly, but he determinedly pushed through knowing his continued freedom depended on clear thinking.

"Man, he really gave you a beat down," Antonio noted with a laugh. "Don't worry. We'll make sure he gets payback eventually." He passed a slow moving truck to his right before continuing, "I overheard one of the soldiers planning to sneak his nurse chick out in the supply truck for some sort of romantic hook up. I just made sure we were hidden in the truck instead of her. Left her tied up in one of the base's empty houses. They'll probably find her when they start looking for us."

Antonio's words recalled disjointed images of being squeezed into a long box that vibrated with the movement of the truck. "What about lover boy?"

"He wasn't too happy to see we cancelled his date," Antonio admitted. With a satisfied smirk he assured, "They will have a harder time finding his body." Antonio glanced at Lee to see if his mentor would object. "I ditched the truck 'cause I figured this would be less noticeable."

"You did a good job getting us out of there," Lee praised. "When we get to Chicago I'll see how many of my old contacts are still viable. Then we can start working out some long term goals and plans." Lee began digging through the seat tray. "I don't suppose our stolen car has any stolen medication in it," he gave a long suffering sigh.

"Don't think so," confirmed Antonio, "but I'll need to get gas soon. We should be able to pain killers and food there; probably soda or coffee too."

"Sounds like a plan," agreed Lee, "Lead the way."

* * *

><p>The rising sun found Cascade's Major Crimes detectives, AFT Teams Seven and Eight, Commander Lach's unit, Lieutenant Holtz, Sergeant Smith, Doctors Brandon Millet and Michael Reynolds, and Nurses Linda and Meredith (discovered three hours before in one of the abandoned base houses) raiding the mess hall for something resembling breakfast. A combination of local law enforcement and military police already come and gone taking the captured mercenaries, renegade General Colton and mad scientist Eckhart with them. Doctors Carter and Groad were questioned. Their Sentinel related work confiscated by Lach and turned over to a surprised Blair. Then they were released with stern warnings to alert authorities if Brackett or Milan tried to contact them.<p>

Lach relayed a request from one General Meister to meet with Blair, Chris, Jim and Vin. Given the fact Meister authorized Lach's unit to assist in their assault on Colton's base of operations, they decided to hear the man out. Their friends, still a bit suspicious, decided to stay as well.

Josiah created a huge pile of flapjacks. Ezra prepared French toast and scrambled eggs. Blair took requests for omelets preparing a dozen in a time that could have put most short order cooks to shame. Simon baked biscuits while Lach mixed up some delicious sausage gravy. Jim guaranteed a sufficient supply of bacon, sausage and ham. Lydia from Team Eight tossed together a berry heavy fruit salad and also pulled a couple bottle of juice out of the giant refrigerators to complete the buffet style offerings.

Blair sat down at the cafeteria type table immediately sandwiched by Jim and Simon. He smiled at their silent show of concern. A moment later Lach asked if he could join them and took the spot across from Blair. The tables filled quickly and the sounds of eating broken by the occasional praise of food filled the room. Blair noticed Chris next to Buck. He leaned close to the big man and said something with a smile. Buck's returning grin reflected less than enthusiastic. "Buck is still pissed about Brackett getting away," Blair observed.

"He made capturing Lee his personal mission," Jim pointed out. "Buck and Chris have an even longer and more painful history with Brackett than we do. We were never forced to watch a teammate and close friend die because of Brackett's actions. It does help that we missed him by little more than a couple hours. Buck's got a right to be angry. Let's be honest; none of us is going to be truly happy until that psychopath is locked up again."

"True," Blair conceded. The arrival of several newcomers ended the conversation. A straight grey-haired man in dress blues paused in the doorway to accept direction from one of Lach's unit before heading to their table.

"General Meister is a straight shooter," Lach volunteered from across the table. "It's no secret some of our missions fall into grey areas politically. He deals with all of the political crap and makes sure the mission objectives are worth the risks we're taking. I hope you will hear him out with an open mind." Lach stood and offered his chair to the General.

Simon also stood up letting Chris take his spot while Vin slid in at the end of the table. Once everyone was comfortable Blair spoke, "You asked for this meeting sir. What did you want to talk about?" Blair knew Sentinels would be the main topic, but he wanted to hear General Meister's perspective. After being 'drafted' by the last General he faced, Blair refused to risk making assumptions.

"First, the United States Army formally apologizes for the actions of General Colton. His project was not sanctioned and he will be prosecuted according to the Uniform Code of Military Justice," Meister began. "Second, I would like you to please consider accepting a part time consulting position, Doctor Sandburg, to better advise us on our treatment and training of Sentinels identified in the military."

"Hold up. Did you just say Doctor? You mean General Colton told the truth about me being awarded a doctorate by a war college?" Blair demanded confirmation.

"He submitted a copy of your original dissertation to the Army's War College degree board. They were most impressed with both your documentation and your background research," Meister assured. "I realize it is not enough to compensate you for being attacked, drugged, kidnapped and threatened, but I hope you will accept it as a starting point." The General opened a folder handed to him by one of his assistants and presented Blair with his doctorate in living color.

Blair accepted the document with only a slight tremor in hands. So many times over the past decade, even before he met Jim, he fantasized about receiving his doctorate for proving the existence of modern day Sentinels. Long after Blair ruined his anthropological career and took a position on the police force thoughts of a doctorate continued to slip into the occasional dream. "Naomi is really going to hate this," Blair admitted as he studied his doctorate.

"Naomi can lump it," Jim decided. "She already cost you your first PhD. She doesn't get a say about this one."

Blair forced his eyes back up to General Meister. "Is this going to disappear if I decline your offer of a consulting position?" he asked.

"No," Meister assured. "Your research on Sentinels more than earned it. In fact, we still owe you compensation for printing manuals based on your dissertation; enough to eliminate your student loans and start a tidy nest egg. But I hope you will seriously consider the consulting position. We're still having trouble implementing the strategies mentioned in your work and Lieutenant Holtz and Sergeant Smith are not the only ones in need." The General looked to Lach indicating he should speak.

"There is a man on in my unit who has exhibited heightened senses on two previous occasions. One of which led to what should have been an impossible rescue of several members of our team after they were cut off and surrounded. After both incidents his senses seemed to normalize within a month," Lach explained. "Three weeks ago his sentinel abilities resurfaced again. The mission we were on remains classified but I can tell you since our return it has been worse then before. Instead of constant headaches and out of control senses, he keeps slipping into these fugue states. Sometimes the lightest touch will bring him out of it, other times a brass band could march through his room and he wouldn't notice. I've had to cash in a lot of favors just to keep the doctors from moving him to a psychiatric ward. If you know of any way to help him, I would be in you debt."

Blair's gut instinct insisted he jump right in and help, but first he needed to know what General Meister intended to do with his knowledge. "You apologized for General Colton's actions, but I need confirmation the military won't institute his ideas about drafting Sentinels and Guides."

"I can assure you, in writing if you would prefer, there will be no drafting of anyone without an act of Congress at which point the draft will be for all able bodied Americans; not targeted at one or two particular groups," General Meister declared. "Personally, I would prefer the draft not be reinstated. We are stronger with a volunteer force that wants to be with us."

"Okay," Blair accepted, once Jim silently confirmed the General spoke truthfully. "What about the classification for my work? Is everything I do in regards to Sentinels going to be regarded as top secret?"

"Things get a bit trickier there," admitted Meister. "I am hoping we can forge a middle road. The military acknowledges the existence of special operations units such as Seal Team Six," the general gave a respectful nod to Chris and Buck, "and Delta Force. We have even on rare occasions confirmed their participation in certain actions. Yet most information about these units; who is in them; what their specific capabilities are, remain classified for the integrity of the unit and the safety of its individual members. I would like to start acknowledging Sentinels with heightens senses exist both in and outside the military, but keep who they are and exactly what they are capable of classified. In practice it would be similar to the way undercover officers and agents are protected members of law enforcement. When Sentinels have to testify on evidence they obtained through their senses that can't be confirmed by other methods, we can provide statistical evidence gathered on our Sentinels to give Judges an idea of how far reaching Sentinel capabilities are, without revealing an individual Sentinel's strengths and weaknesses. It's not a perfect solution, but it may be our best opportunity to do the most good."

Blair felt fairly impressed with General Meister's compromise. It would solve Jim's ongoing frustrations with not being able to present as evidence things he discovered with his senses. Little would change for Chris and Vin as they were already part of an undercover unit. Blair looked around noticing for the first time the way Jim and Vin bracketed him and Chris between; with Holts and Smith behind and on either side of Dr. Brandon Millet. Four Sentinels guarding three Guides. Noting their looks of hopeful agreement Blair said, "It sounds like a good place to start. So in my capacity as part time civilian consultant on Sentinels I have a question: Who is the lightest touch?"

"I beg pardon?" Meister asked, not understanding Blair's question.

Jim, now long familiar with his partner's sudden mental left turns, clarified, "Lach mentioned sometimes his man could be pulled out of his fugue state by the lightest touch. Did the lightest touch happen to belong to one particular person?"

"Actually, yes it did," confirmed Lach. "Swerve easily brought him around at least twice that I can remember." Lach looked back towards the soldier still at the door. "Swerve, come here!" he shouted. The younger unit member quickly jogged over to the group.

Blair tipped his head back to ask Dean about the newcomers scent only to realize the lieutenant anticipated his request. Dean's eyes were closed but his nostrils flared with a deep inhalation. A small smile slipped across his lips. "Swerve you smell like minty-sandalwood," he declared.

"I what now?" asked the medium height brown haired Delta operator.

"You're a potential guide," Blair explained.

"Guide?" asked Swerve, "A potential guide to what?"

"You would be your Sentinel friend's best chance at regaining control of his senses and maintaining his sanity," Vin laid it all on the line. "Think you're up for the job?"

A look of resolve steeled Swerve's face, "What do I need to do?"

"I can answer that," volunteered Dr. Millet digging into his backpack and pulling out a Sentinel manual based on Blair's dissertation. "Start reading," Brandon instructed, "It will give you a general idea of what Sentinels are capable of. Once you're done we can talk specifics about ways to individualize your approach to your own Sentinel."

"So you're saying the Guides referenced only a little in your dissertation are the key to helping a Sentinel control their abilities?" asked Meister.

"Yes." "Definitely!" "No doubt about it." Jim, Carl and Vin all spoke at the same time.

"That is the current consensus," said Blair in a wiry tone. "It also appears being a Guide is at least to some degree genetic; hence Lieutenant Holtz's identification of a minty-sandalwood Guide scent. Not that I think Guides or Sentinels are interchangeable. Just like any other partnership some match ups will have better chemistry than others. For example Chris worked quite a bit helping Sergeant Smith gain control of his senses, but within minutes of joining Dr. Millet in a basic sensory sweep his control solidified enough for his range to more than double." Blair took a deep breath. "I'm willing to serve as a part-time consultant, but I really think you are going to need someone to coordinate between Sentinels, Guides and their units full time. I would recommend Dr. Millet as an ideal fit for such a position."

"Because he is a Guide?" Meister half asked, half considered.

"I doubt being a Guide will hinder him," began Blair, "but I would say he showed his best qualifications when it was revealed to the medical staff that Chris and I were kidnapped and being forced to participate. Even after Doctor Eckhart threatened Brandon with bodily harm, he offered to help us. Courage and integrity seem like the sort of prerequisites needed in someone leading a classified project heavily involved in assisting human assets with in the military."

General Meister tipped his head to the side. "An excellent point," he agreed. "What do you think Dr. Millet? Would you be interested in leading a new Sentinel and Guide project?"

"Very interested," admitted Brandon, "but I can't answer definitively until we know Sergeant Smith's new orders." He turned to Carl. "Assuming you want to continue working together."

"I do," Carl confirmed. He wanted to insist General Meister find a place for him in whatever unit became assigned to Brandon's project, but Sergeants did not insist to Generals.

"I can see we will have to take the Sentinel/Guide partnerships into account when assigning personnel," murmured General Meister almost as a note to himself. "So a new project led by Dr. Millet and Sergeant Smith with Dr. Sandburg consulting as needed. Lach's Sentinel may have a Guide in the form of Swerve. What about you Lieutenant Holtz? Do you know who your Guide is?"

"I know who I would like to have as a Guide, but she isn't in the military. I would prefer to speak with her before I make any decisions," the lieutenant explained. The General nodded his understanding.

"Excuse me Doctors," Swerve interrupted. "I know Sponge's first question is going to be how long until he can get back on active duty. Can I get some sort of estimate on how long training his senses is going to take?"

"I don't think I have enough experience yet to give you a reliable estimate," Brandon admitted. "I only started Guiding a few hours ago." He looked to Blair.

"It's a bit hard for me to give a realistic estimate too," Blair confessed. "As my partner refused to take time off . . ."

"Doesn't anyone else remember a mad bomber roaming the streets of Cascade at the time?" Jim reminded.

". . . during or after the resurgence of his heightened senses," Blair plowed on, "we were forced to work around his schedule. It took several months before he mastered what I would consider consistent control." Blair turned to Chris. "I know you two did take some vacation time."

"We managed to squeeze in about three weeks," Chris confirmed, "but there is a vast different between easing a Sentinel into working surveillance or investigating a bombing and inserting behind hostile lines or fast roping into enemy fire. Going by my experiences with the SEALs I strongly suggest you and Sponge train heavily for at least a month. When you can counter a zone before it happens and he can extend his senses to the max without risking a crippling headache then you can start working with the rest of your unit." Chris directed his next words at Lach. "You can't leave all of the Guiding responsibility on Swerve either. There will be times when the mission dictates Swerve and Sponge work apart. Every member of my team can recognize and deal with both spikes and zones. You need to make sure your team can do the same if you want Sponge to reach his full potential."

"Understood," said Lach. He moved next to Swerve to get a better look at the man's reading material. If this was something his people needed to know then he needed to know it too.

Chris felt someone staring at him and turned to meet Blair's serious look. "What?"

"Remember us joking about writing a how-to manual for Sentinels and Guides in Law enforcement?" ask Blair.

"Yes," Chris replied hesitantly. Jim seemed to be warning him off from behind Blair.

"I think it really does need to be written and you're the man to write it," declared Blair.

"Me?" Chris's voice cracked with disbelief. "You're the writer-scholar, not me," he protested.

"You're selling yourself short," insisted Blair. "We've already outlined several chapters in our email exchanges. Besides I'm sure Josiah would be happy to help you out." Josiah grinned, excited to be a part of Blair's idea. "I'm going to be too busy revamping the manual they based on my dissertation. It doesn't cover even a tenth of what we know about Sentinels. I'll need to set aside a chapter to cover Guide scent." Blair scribbled notes on his napkin while the others looked on. "We also need to include more about Guides, though I'm not sure where to start."

"Above average intelligence," Jim volunteered.

"Not just book smart, but creative, outside-the-box problem solvers," Vin concurred.

"A tendency to leap into things head first," Jim observed.

"Don't forget," reminded Vin, "their unique ability to piss off every sociopath in a ten mile radius."

"What?" "That's so not fair!" Chris and Blair began protesting.

"Galileo, Kincaid . . ." Jim began.

"Marshall Bob Spikes, Morgan Coltrane . . ." Vin continued.

"Now wait a minute," Chris protested. "Morgan liked me. Buck was the one he wanted dead."

"Until he realized you were playing him and he tried to run you down with his motorcycle," Buck countered.

"You are exaggerating about Guides attracting the attention of sociopaths, right?" asked Carl taking a protective step closer to Brandon.

"You forgot to mention Lash," Simon pointed out.

"How about that corrupt Sheriff Quince?" suggested JD.

"And his partner Warden LaFleur," Nathan volunteered

"Maya Carasco," Rafe added.

"Cletus Fowler," Josiah listed grimly.

"And that Ventriss punk," Henry finished off the tally.

"Hhm," murmured Lach as he studied Swerve.

"Something wrong, sir?" Swerve asked hesitantly.

"I'm just seeing Fallujah and Benghazi in a new light," Lach explained. Swerve grimaced but did not argue.

"See," Vin nudged Jim, "I told you it wasn't just a Larabee trait; Guides are psycho magnets." Vin turned to pat Carl on the shoulder. "Good luck with yours."

"Like Sentinels are any better at avoiding the criminally insane," Blair scoffed. "Now quit distracting us. We have got a lot of work to do if Brandon and Carl are going to have any chance of getting a working program up and running for General Meister." Blair quickly issued instructions to the other Guides, Sentinels and their allies. All of whom were quick to do his bidding, Chris noted with amusement. Blair might not think of himself as a natural leader, but he did not hesitate to take charge when the situation demanded it. Within moments the group was dismantling Colton's vision and replacing it with a framework for a better future for Sentinels and Guides.

* * *

><p>Reviews and feedback are always appreciated. I hope you enjoyed the story.<p> 


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